What you wish for
by Danish Existence
Summary: Ain embarks on an adventurous journey in the company of Geralt of Rivia, where they will discover themselves and each other. AU loosely inspired by the games and the books. NB! Discontinued.
1. Chapter 1 The deal

**A/N**: _This story takes place several months after Gerald of Rivia returns to the known world without any of his memories at the beginning of the first game, but presuming that the conspiracy concerning the secrets of the witchers (the main plot of the first game) has not yet been put in motion. Rated M for language, violence and adult situations._

_Disclaimer: Some characters and content in this story are the ownership of Andrzej Sapkowski and/or Project CD Projekt Red. They created an awesome universe, and I borrowed some of it. No profit is being made and the following story is for entertainment purposes only._

_I owe a thousand thanks to **PestoMonkey**,_ _my wonderful beta-reader who has been a _mountain of patience and kindness_. Her help has been invaluable. __ She is also a very talented writer with a great imagination. Read her story Conjunction, a crossover between Dragon Age and The Witcher, to see what I mean._

_**Update** - 20. July 2012: I have made some changes to the story - the most significant one is in the first chapter. You can read the details about it on my profile. Thank you to **arkblazer** for the input that has inspired this revision. I hope I caught all inconsistencies resulting from the change to the first chapter, but please let me know if you spot any. I apologize for any inconvenience.  
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><p>A warm bath and a soft bed were a welcome luxury after three months on the road. Geralt took his boots off and threw them on the floor by the bed. A knock on the door interrupted him as he was in the process of discarding the rest of his attire. He took a few long strides across the room and opened the door. He expected to see the plump woman or the young boy from the inn bringing him warm water for his bath. That's why he was taken aback by the image that met his eyes.<p>

"Hello Geralt." Her voice greeted him with a warm and excited tone, as if happy to see him. "May I please come in?" she continued as he stood there motionless while a thousand thoughts raced through his mind at the same time. "I want to talk to you."

"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously without moving. He would have guessed she was a sorceress, even if an unusual one as such, but his medallion was not vibrating, which was odd considering her appearance.

"My name is Ain. I have a work proposition for you. Will you hear me out?"

Still unsure of how to react, Geralt measured her from head to toe. The vibrant, light colours and fine fabrics of her attire indicated wealth. Thick gold bracelets adorned her ankles, and her feet were covered in soft brown leather shoes. Her long, dark hair was pulled back by a colorful scarf, and looked silky and healthy. If anyone could wear breeches and get away with it, it would be a sorceress. Sorceresses were the only women who could afford to become independent and confident, because they were powerful and respected enough. Though from what he knew, they preferred to wear elegant, lavish dresses. Besides, the woman in front of him looked very young, almost too young to have reached a position of significant power that would ensure her the wealth and nonconformity she was displaying. But Geralt knew looks could be deceiving. Sorceresses employed magic to alter their appearance, so they all looked in their twenties. Those magical alterations were not flawless, but his keen eyes could not detect even the smallest flaw in the beautiful features of the woman standing in front of him. She truly was a bundle of contradictions, and his curiosity was stirred.

"Please, Geralt." she pleaded impatiently, squirming a little under his scrutiny. "I mean you no harm."

He gave her an incredulous smile. Her slender figure barely posed any threat. At least no physical threat. He could snap her like a twig if he wanted. And she seemed to be alone. He took a step aside, holding the door open for her to come in. As she stepped past him into the room, a pleasant floral scent filled his nostrils. He closed the door and turned to face her. His eyes met hers and for a moment they just looked at each other intently, before she broke their gaze and looked around the room smiling. She took two small steps and leaned on the table in the middle of the room, gripping it for support.

"As I said, I have some work for you. I wish to travel and see the world, I need a guide. I'll pay you to accompany me in my travels for one year."

Geralt stepped towards Ain, grabbed the back of a chair by the table and pulled it out with a scraping sound. He took a seat and propped his feet up on the table, crossing them at the ankles as he crossed his arms over his chest. Ain turned towards him, half-sitting on the edge of the table. She gave him a small smile, but she seemed nervous, if the way she was gripping the edge of the table was any indication.

"How do you know my name?" he inquired in a relaxed yet categorical tone that reflected his posture.

"I've heard about you. It's not that strange, is it?" she shrugged. "Many people know you, you have travelled many places. There are books about witchers, and songs that sing of your deeds."

"So that's why you want to hire me? Because I'm famous?"

"I suppose I want to find out if the stories are true," she admitted thoughtfully. "If they hold any grain of truth, then there is no one better I could find for the job."

"Who are you?" he asked dropping his feet on the floor and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his parted thighs. "Where do you come from?"

"That is unimportant," she answered, standing and pacing towards the window. "I am not from here, that's why I need a guide. That's all you need to know," she said turning to face him again.

Geralt watched her intently and this time she held his gaze. He couldn't tell the colour of her eyes in the dim light of the room as the last of the daylight coming from the window behind her cast a shadow across her features.

"No," he said leaning back in the chair again.

"No?" she asked, surprised."No what?"

"I can't take the job," he said, resolute.

"Why not?" she insisted, obviously upset with his answer.

"That's no job for a witcher," he told her, unwavering, but inwardly amused by her reaction.

"But I'd pay you much more than you can earn from your job as a witcher." She came back and placed her hands on the table opposite him, leaning forward as she pleaded.

"You'll have to find someone else," he said, rising from his seat and walking towards the door, signaling to her that the meeting was over. In fact, he could hear some commotion on the stairs outside the door, and guessed that they were about to be interrupted very soon by the delivery of water for his bath.

"Wait," she said, following him hastily and gripping his arm to make him turn back to face her. "I don't want someone else. Please, I can make it worth your while. And you won't have to give up your work, if you want. Let me come along."

"That's not possible," he said, opening the door.

"Why not?" she begged, almost on the verge of tears, and pushed the door closed again.

"It's too dangerous. I can't take care of you."

"I can take care of myself," she insisted desperately. "I won't get in your way. Whatever you earn in a year, I'll pay you double or triple. Please, Geralt, anything you want," she said almost in one breath.

The silence that momentarily filled the room was broken by a hard knock on the door. Ain flinched and thus broke the intense exchange of looks between them. Geralt reached for the door again, and this time he was met by the plump landlady he had been expecting. Behind her was the boy he had met earlier at the stables when he arrived, and who he supposed was the innkeeper's son. He was carrying two buckets filled with steaming water.

"Sorry to disturb you witcher," the good woman fidgeted. "The water for your bath is ready. Come on boy, hurry up," she said, and made room for the boy to pass by. "I brought you clean towels," the woman continued, and handed him the stack of folded cloth she was holding. "I hope you find the room to your liking? And if you need anything, please let us know."

Geralt was surprised by the show of hospitality from his hostess. She hadn't been so obliging upon his arrival, and he guessed he was being tolerated as a guest only because of the slow season. The inn was quiet which meant not many people, if any, were lodged at the moment.

The woman looked searchingly into the room, and a big smile crossed her face when her eyes fell on Ain.

"Ah, my lady," the woman's face broke into a wide smile. "I see you found the witcher." She stretched out her neck to see better, as her vision got obstructed by the boy who was returning with the empty water buckets.

Geralt turned towards Ain to see her smiling politely as she responded. "Yes, Dorrit, thank you."

"Will you be staying the night my lady?" the nosy woman continued ignoring Geralt's stare.

"Should I make a room ready? T'is already dark, and dangerous for a young woman to travel alone."

"Yes, Dorrit, that would be good. I'll come find you soon." Ain said with a short bow of her head.

The landlady looked very pleased and turned to walk away, pushing the glaring boy standing at her side.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you?" Geralt said as he closed the door.

"As are you, witcher. You drive a hard bargain, but I stand by what I said."

"That you'll give me anything I want?" he asked, smirking ironically.

"I don't think you will find a better offer," she answered keenly, clearly missing his sarcasm. "You get to do what you want, and get paid what you ask. Tenfold of what you usually earn, if that's what you want. The only string attached is that you let me accompany you for one year."

"Which one is it? Is it what I want, or is it tenfold?" he played along.

"I don't care about the price."

"What do you care for then?"

"To see the world. And I want you to be my guide."

"And you always get what you want?" he smiled nastily. "You'll have to tell me who you are," he continued when she didn't answer. She seemed troubled by his question, her expressive face turned suddenly stony.

"What does it matter who I am? Just trust me when I say I can fulfill my part of the bargain. I'll pay you what you ask. Does this mean you accept?" she asked hopefully, which he found strange, yet pleasant, but he kept a straight face.

"Not so fast," he said and closed the space between them in two strides. "Why do you want me?" he stared her down inquisitively. "If you have that much money, you could hire a guard escort."

"I want it to be you because of your past," she answered reluctantly.

"My past?" That got his undivided attention.

His past was lost to him. He couldn't remember any of it. He woke up at Kaer Morhen a few months back with no recollection of what had happened to him. He had hoped that his memory would return, but it didn't. And now he was looking for answers, wishing to know who he was.

"I'm listening," he added when she remained silent, just biting her lip. Being so close to her face, that gesture was distracting. The intimacy between them got heightened further by the dim light of dusk casting the room in shadows. He watched her full lips and suppressed with difficulty the desire to feel and taste them on the spot.

"I already told you, I've heard about you," she answered in a faltering voice. "And I ask you again, what does it matter?"

"I wouldn't mind knowing."

"And I think it is not important for the offer I made you. Please, consider it. You can give me your answer later, if you like. Just think about it."

"One year?" he asked. Reflecting on the life that he had led in the time since he woke, and judging by the tales of the other witchers at Kaer Morhen, Geralt was convinced that having her along was unsuitable with a witcher's path. Yet he felt drawn to her from the moment she had entered his room, and it wasn't only his desire to have her. She had an odd effect on him, something he couldn't put his finger on.

"One year," she answered softly. They stood there transfixed for a moment then Ain took a step back. "Your water is getting cold," she said, gesturing towards the end of the room where the wooden bathtub rested, full to the brim with steaming water. "I'll let you get to it."

She walked towards the door and opened it. Before she walked out, she stopped and turned. "I'll see you in the morning."

With that promise she left him alone in the dark.

_I'll keep you to it_, he smirked as he threw his shirt on the floor.


	2. Chapter 2 Family secrets part 1

The morning light was barely creeping over the horizon when Geralt left his room carrying his meager belongings. He intended to replenish his food supplies and be on his way before sunrise. After a good night's sleep the meeting from the previous evening felt distant, the memory of it as hazy as the recollection of events after a night of drinking. Thus presently he barely understood why he gave any second thoughts to the young woman's proposition. She could not possibly be as good as he remembered.

He got his answer a moment later when he reached the bottom of the stairs and was greeted by the sight of her looking eagerly up at him from her seat at a table covered with an ample spread of food. The smell of freshly baked bread, the dancing flames in the huge fireplace, and her slender silhouette in the warm light were utterly inviting.

"Good morning Geralt." Her crystalline voice resounded in the large and otherwise empty room. "You weren't thinking about sneaking out on me, were you?" she asked playfully.

"That's why you're up so early?" He approached with a steady, prowling gait, giving her a devilish grin. Yes, she was as good as he remembered. She awoke a storm inside him and he felt helplessly drawn in. He saw her swallow nervously before she answered.

"I couldn't sleep. I had to make sure I had everything I need for the journey. Please, take a seat." She gestured towards the opposite side of the table.

Geralt dropped his pack on the floor. "What's all this?" he asked, looking at the table while he sat facing her. He could hardly imagine that the inn would be so well provisioned, and even so it would require a significant amount of money to pay for this meal.

"I thought we could do with a good breakfast," she smiled.

From behind him Geralt heard the rustling of clothes and the creaking of the wooden floor under heavy steps which were unmistakably their landlady's. She approached carrying a large parcel.

"Everything is packed, my lady. As you requested," the woman said, placing the parcel at the other end of the long table.

"Thank you Dorrit." Ain nodded towards her with a smile.

"Is there anything you need, witcher?" The woman looked at him rubbing her hands.

He wondered yet again about the excessive hospitality, and suspected it had to do with Ain. He disliked not knowing who she was, and decided to rectify that as soon as possible.

"I'll need some food for the road," he answered plainly. The woman gave him a confused look.

"I already took care of that," Ain answered quickly and gestured towards the package on the table when Geralt turned to look at her. "That will be all for now Dorrit."

"Vitus has saddled and packed up your horses," the woman added.

"That's great. I'll come see you when we're ready to leave."

As soon as their hostess walked away towards the kitchen, Ain spoke up hurriedly.

"Please, Geralt, don't get mad at my presumptuousness. I am aware that you haven't agreed to anything yet, but before you give me your answer, please take a look at this."

She drew a small silk pouch from under the table and placed it in front of him with a soft thud. Geralt noted fleetingly how pliable and soft the pouch was in his hands, while he closely studied the young woman's anxious face.

When smooth stones rolled in his hand, he looked down. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires, all between the size of peas and quail eggs glistened in the light of the candles.

"I don't carry orens, but I can give you as many stones like this as you wish," she hurried to tell him when his gaze returned to her face.

Sold to the right buyer, the stones in his hand could fetch an outrageous sum for which he would otherwise have to work rather more than a hundred contracts. The number of contracts he found in the last three months could be counted on the fingers of one hand.

Geralt looked at her mindfully, wondering why she was willing to depart so easily with a fortune. He placed the pouch back on the table.

"Start by telling me who you are and where you come from," he said, and popped a ripe, juicy strawberry in his mouth, savoring the flavor as it washed over his tongue.

The voice of reason told him that this was a bad idea, no matter how attractive the payment was. He might not know who he was, but he couldn't imagine himself as one at the whims of a rich girl. Allowing her to tag along, as she seemed willing to do, was also out of the question. Wasn't it? At the least she would slow him down, but she could also get hurt. Besides, her refusal to tell him who she was made warning bells ring. Then what was he doing here still discussing this? What was this intense feeling he got in his gut every time he watched her?

"Why is it so important for you to know?" she asked, meeting his gaze with a frank look.

"I won't agree to anything unless you tell me," he warned her, then indulged in the flavored cheese and smoked ham, which he washed down with a long drink of fresh fruit juice. This was a meal fit for a king.

"We'll see about that," she muttered, and then she joined him in plucking different snacks from the table.

He grinned and watched her surreptitiously as they ate in silence. She was stubborn, fighting him like a kitty to get what she wanted. Her persistence roused his curiosity.

She was watching him as well, though she was not nearly as subtle.

"It's not polite to stare," he finally uttered harshly, catching her gaze abruptly.

"I'm sorry. You're right." She quickly lowered her eyes, and he was surprised to see her blush.

"But you didn't answer my question." She looked up at him again, her expression suddenly challenging.

"As soon as you answer my questions."

"I can't. It's complicated," she continued defensively when she met his gaze. "And it is my belief that it is best you don't know. Like this we can keep things simple."

She looked utterly convinced of her belief when she answered, and she held his gaze with a straight face. He raised himself brusquely and walked out of the room.

The cool morning air washed over him and he took a deep breath. The clouds were starting to disperse as the sun began to rise. Green fields stretched out as far as he could see, and only the agitated chirp of small birds in the trees in the garden disrupted the peacefulness in the countryside. He walked to the far end of the yard towards the stables, where he found his mare and two other horses saddled. One of the horses was heavily loaded and he approached to take a closer look, patting his mare on the neck as he came by. Neatly packed parcels of various sizes were tied to the harness on the horse's back. The horse snorted lightly and pawed the ground with its hoof. Geralt loosened the lace of a bag to look inside, and found folded cloth, rope and thin wooden pales. He heard someone approaching and turned around.

"Here is your pack." Ain said, handing him his belongings, including the pouch of precious stones he had left behind. He didn't take it. She looked pleadingly at him, her grey-blue eyes meeting his intently.

The landlady carrying the packed food approached and interrupted them. She was followed by the young boy who Geralt had met the previous day. He kept at a distance ogling Ain's backside.

Geralt didn't have a chance to take a good look at Ain's attire earlier. It was just as peculiar as the evening before, but this time he studied it with more focus than he'd managed the first time. She wore beige breeches that fit snugly around her hips and billowed loosely around her thighs. The cuffs were shoved into knee high leather boots. Her upper torso was wrapped in a large and seemingly soft brown shawl under which she wore a white cambric shirt. In the natural light he was able to make out the dark-chesnut colour of her hair and the colour of her eyes emphasized by thick dark lashes and beautifully arched eyebrows.

He secured his pack on Roach's back while three pairs of eyes watched him. He then turned towards Ain and asked, pointing at the open bag he had examined a moment ago.

"What's this?"

"It's a tent."

"Is everything in there so useless?"

"I'm sure I can make use of everything," she said, visibly embarrassed.

"And you can take care of two horses?" he continued his harsh interrogation with the same hard, even tone.

"Take care of them? Don't they … mostly take care of themselves?" she asked, uncertain.

She had no idea what she was getting herself into Geralt thought, and he had no intention of holding her hand.

"This much load is going to attract robbers."

"I didn't think about that," she answered miserably. Her cheeks were burning red.

With the lack of judgement she was displaying, he couldn't fathom how she had made it this far. Alone, and with this much load she was asking for trouble.

"It seems you didn't think about a lot of things."

She didn't make things easy for him, and he intended to repay her in kind with the same currency. And he was enjoying this more than he ought to. He pulled Roach by the reins, which set things in motion around him. Ain took the parcel of food from Dorrit and hurried to tie it on top of the pile on the back of the horse. She then clumsily tied the reins of the loaded horse to the saddle of her riding horse and pulled them along following him.

"Hurry, boy. Open the gate," Dorrit called to the stock-still boy.

When they reached outside the gate, Ain turned and thanked the woman and the boy for their help. With several more insecure movements, she mounted her horse and soon settled into the leisurely pace that he had set, following at a short distance behind him. She wasn't easily dissuaded, he thought with amusement.

o0o

The country road that stretched before them swayed between gentle hills, green and yellow plains of grown grains, and clusters of bushes and trees scattered here and there. It was a clear day and the warmth of the sun as it rose on the horizon and the gentle breeze caused pollen to spread, amplifying the aromas in the air, which Ain seemed to savor. She would often take deep breaths with a serene expression on her face. He stopped several places to replenish his supplies of celandine and white myrtle. She followed him, curious, and asked to help, stooping to pick the flowers with childish joy. Her manner contrasted sharply with the gracious forms of her body which was that of a woman. She had removed her shawl and he was plainly confronted with the way her perky breasts moved under the thin fabric of her loose, white shirt. The way her breeches stretched on her round bottom when she bent to pick the flowers only served to distract him further.

They travelled for several hours, and the road had been mostly deserted except for a merchant caravan that crossed their way, or the deer herds or single rabbits running scared in the fields. By noon the sight of a farming village came into view as the road reached the peak of a low hill. Cows and a few horses were grazing in the fields nearby, and he spied a well near the crossroads just outside the village. It was a good place to stop and water the horses. As they drew nearer, he also saw the silhouette of a woman. When she came clearer into view he saw that she was sitting on a large stone by the well hiding her face in her hands as if crying. They dismounted nearby, Ain copying his movements. When they drew near, the young woman stood up, startled, and dried her cheeks with her apron.

"What's wrong?" he asked coming closer.

"I… I don't feel like talking about it," the woman said, and she grabbed the bucket from the ground intent on leaving.

"Wait," Ain called, coming closer. My name is Ain and this is Geralt. Will you tell us your name?"

"Ileana," the woman answered, turning to look at her.

"You seem upset. Why don't you tell us what happened? Maybe we can help," Ain continued gently.

"True," the woman answered, and put the bucket back on the ground. She paused for a moment before she spoke in an uncertain tone. "It's my mother in law, Dochia…"

"What happened to her?" Ain encouraged.

"Nothing, but I'm afraid that something will happen to me."

"Why?"

"My husband and I live in Dorian. A short while ago he got word to come here, that Dochia was sick. So we came, and he left me here to take care of here. He had work at home, and he said he'll come for me when Dochia gets better. After he left, Dochia worked me like a horse and talked to me like to a dog. When I cleaned the house, I heard strange noises coming from the cellar. Growls, like some kind of animal. It made my hair stand up at the ends. I asked Dochia what's in there, but she wouldn't say. She just kept calling me names, and saying you'll see, you'll see." Ileana began sulking again.

"Geralt is a witcher. I think you should ask him for help."

Ain turned to look at Geralt, but she didn't dare ask out loud what her gaze plainly expressed.

"A witcher? Then will you help me?" Ileana turned to him and asked.

"I'll visit her and see what I can find out. My help will cost you 50 orens."

"I don't have so much money with me, but my husband will pay you if you'll go to Dorian. Business 's been rotten lately, but I had a good dowry and we saved it for rainy days."

"Where does your mother-in-law live?" Geralt asked, and Ileana pointed towards the house.

"Stay here until I get back, and give water to the horses," he told Ain, who proceeded to lower the bucket into the well with Ileana's help.

As he approached the strip of houses located on both sides of the road, he was first spotted by the children playing in the yards on the ground among chickens and dogs. They came running to look at him, but keeping at safe distance. A couple of women dropped their washing and sweeping and approached as well, giving him long looks while whispering to each other.

The house he was looking for had a small neglected garden surrounded by a shabby fence. It was a ramshackle structure, quite small and low, with straw roof, and dark curtains in the windows, but it didn't stand out by much between the other houses.

He received no answer when he knocked on the door, so he let himself in. The door opened to a dimly-lit room filled with crude furniture and hoards of worthless things. The air smelled heavily of earth, rotten wood and mold. He took several steps inside, navigating carefully between the cupboards and chairs standing between him and another door he could see at the opposite side of the room. The wooden floorboards creaked hollowly under his feet and it dawned on him that he must be standing just above the cellar. He looked searchingly for a hatchway, but right then the door opened and a frail hunched old woman yelled at him.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a witcher."

"Out! Get out of my house _now_! Get out!" She kept screaming and pushing him back towards the entrance.

He attempted to reason with her to no avail. She kept screaming and he had no choice but to step outside.

A small gathering of people was standing on the road in front of the house, some of them armed with pitchforks. It was not a novel sight.

"Keep away, witcher," one farmer uttered. He had a big belly and a small head, and seemed to be the leader of the flock.

"Ileana asked me to talk to her mother in law, Dochia," Geralt answered. As he approached, they all stepped back, the men raising their pitchforks while the women chuckled and nudged each other.

"The old hag knits with one needle when she hits the bottle." the peasant uttered. "She don't need a witcher."

"A witcher is exactly what she needs," Geralt said as he walked away, leaving them looking long after him.

The commotion behind him slipped into the background of his consciousness as soon as his eyes fell on Ain's silhouette. She was standing facing the other way, holding her long silky hair with both hands in a messy pile on the top of her head, and shading her eyes from the sun at the same time. A few strands of shiny hair escaped from the pile, but her long neck was otherwise exposed revealing smooth ivory skin. Ileana stopped mid sentence from her tale about the market in Dorian when she noticed him a few steps behind Ain, and Ain turned to look as well, freeing her hair.

"What did you find out?" Ileana asked anxiously.

"Nothing yet," he told them. "I'll have to try again later, when the old woman is asleep. Can you make sure of that?"

"Leave it to me," she said. "Come back in the evening." She then grabbed the bucket full of water and walked the same way he just come from.

Geralt looked at Ain's face, and their eyes met.

"Ileana mentioned a tavern a little further down the road..."

"They're not the welcoming sort here."

Grabbing the horse's reins, he walked away from the village. Not surprising, Ain followed after him. They walked over the pasture, until they reached the shade of a big chestnut tree that stood sentinel over the entire area. He secured Roach's reins around a low branch, and the horse immediately proceeded to eat the thick grass that covered the ground all around them. Ain followed his example with her two horses. She then unpacked a blanket and spread it out on the ground, and asked him politely to sit while she retrieved the parcel with food.

"It's really decent of you that you agreed to help Ileana, Geralt," she told him while she unpacked the food. "She said she didn't have anyone here to turn to. She told me she's from Kaedwen, and that people here haven't been very friendly towards her."

"It's my job. I'm getting paid for it," he answered indifferently.

She didn't seem bothered by his dismissive attitude, but didn't pursue the subject. She handed him a turkey sandwich and placed several more sandwiches and fruits between them. He could get used to this, he thought while they ate in silence.

He took out a small wooden box after he ate, and checked the small vials with potions inside under Ain's inquisitive look. There were several that would soon need refilling. He searched for the book with recipes that Vesemir had given him before he departed from Kaer Morhen. He still lacked some ingredients that were not as easy to acquire as common plants. He put the book aside, and Ain asked if she could see it. She then lay on her side, resting her upper body on one elbow. Geralt gathered a few old twigs and magically ignited them a few feet away, but not before he explained what he was doing to the ever curious and prying young woman. He then settled on his knees and heels in front of the fire. That's how they spent the rest of the afternoon; him meditating and her reading and watching him, until she eventually laid her head down and closed her eyes.

o0o

The sky got more clouded in the passing afternoon hours, and the setting sun was now creating an explosion of reds and violets from behind the clouds on the western sky. The air got chilled as well, and Ain had found her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders again. The fire was long dead by the time Geralt arose from his meditation. They packed their belongings and walked back towards the village by the time the darkness was creeping out. Ileana was waiting for them by the window, and hurried to open the door as soon as they entered the garden.

"Is Dochia asleep?" Geralt asked her when he walked through the door.

"She is. I made her a good meal, and kept filling her glass with wine until she passed out," she said in a low voice and gestured them to come in. "She's laying over there," Ileana pointed to a low bed in a corner.

"Where's the door to the cellar?"

"It's by the bed under the rug. I found it when I washed the floors."

They followed Ileana with silent footsteps, but by the loud snoring and hissing it seemed the old woman was deeply asleep.

"Here, take the key. I took it from Dochia."

He removed the rug, and found the hatch to the cellar. The big rusty key fit into the hole. He looked up at the two women who were watching him tensely.

"Get back by the door. Run out if anything happens."

"Geralt," Ain beseeched, "be careful."

He waited a few moments then turned the key in the hole. The loud clicking sound was followed by a growl and scratching coming from below. Geralt drew his sword and opened the hatch. In the dim candle light coming from above he could only see the top of a large wooden stair that descended into darkness. A foul smell was coming from inside and he felt his medallion vibrate. He stepped in, carefully listening for any sounds that could give away the location of whatever he was about to face, but the only noise came from his steps and from Dochia's breathing and unintelligible mumbling.

His eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, and he saw the bottom of the stairs and the dirty ground filled with scattered filthy old bones. A shrieking sound came suddenly from behind him, and he barely had the time to jump away and turn to face his assailant, who tore at the sleeve of his jacket, scratching its claw on the chain mail under it. The sight of the raised sword between them made the creature hesitate for a moment, giving Geralt the time to take a look at it. And suddenly _he remembered_. Memories of fighting beasts like it; old memories of learning about it during his training at Kaer Morhen all came rushing back.

The fleder hissed and jumped aside, trying to reach him with long arms that ended in long, sharp claws, but before the beast even touched the ground it was thrown back with shattering force by a wave of telekinetic power that stunned it and made the bones on the ground fly and bounce off the walls. In a blur of movement Geralt slashed the beast's head off in the blink of an eye.

He found the severed head and pulled out the fangs. He then climbed back up the stairs. At the top was confronted by the old woman coming his way holding a lamp. When she saw him, she started to scream in an earsplitting voice.

"You bastard! What have you done?"

She tried to hit him and push him out of the way. Geralt stepped back allowing her to get where she wanted. The woman gave a heart-breaking scream at the sight of the lifeless creature's body.

"My darling, my darling," Dochia kept weeping.

Ain came down the stairs followed by Ileana who was holding a lamp.

"What's going on?" she looked at Geralt, who came towards her.

"You shouldn't come in here," he told her blocking her way with his body. She tried to advance but he didn't move and she bumped into him and had to place her hands on his shoulders to regain her balance.

"Geralt, please," Ain pleaded, her face only inches away from his. "What happened?" she raised herself on her toes pressing her hands on his shoulders, trying to look behind him.

"A dangerous creature lived in here," he told her, grabbing her hips and pushing her back. Ain's gaze returned to him expectantly, and he sighed and turned aside to let her pass.

"Be careful," he said and grabbed her hand. He stepped back down pulling her behind him. Ileana followed raising the lamp so she could see further into the darkness.

Dochia was still grieving by the lifeless body when they approached, and he felt Ain flinch and squeeze his hand at the sight of it. Ileana was holding tight behind Ain.

"Gods, how horrible," Ileana uttered.

"Why is she crying for this monster?" Ain asked staring at the sight.

"The creature had enslaved her," he answered. "She will recover in a few days."

Hearing his voice, Dochia turned and got up looking enraged.

"You devil, you killed my darling," she yelled coming towards them. "You whore. You brought them here. Dogan is going to kill you, mark my words."

Geralt pushed Ain gently behind him and grabbed the old woman's thin and frail wrists as she tried to hit him.

"Woman, look at me. That thing on the ground is no husband or son of yours. Open your eyes."

"Who are you?" the old woman asked confused. "Get out of my house."

Geralt let her go and turned towards Ain, gesturing to move out. When they got back up, Ain noticed his torn jacket and asked him worried.

"Are you hurt?"

"No." He gave a quick glance at his thorn jacket and swore under his breath. It was ruined. "Let's get out of here," he told her.

"Witcher," Ileana called, "thank you."

"You still owe me 50 orens," he answered.

"Yes, you'll have your gold, but first you'll have to take me home. I can't stay here."

Geralt considered the options for a moment.

"She's right," Ain told him. "Let her come with us," she pleaded when he looked at her.

"How will she keep up?" he asked Ain, and then turned to ask Ileana. "Do you have a horse?"

"No," Ileana answered.

Ain hurried to say "She can have one of mine."

Both women looked at him, anxiously waiting for his consent. He let them agonize for a moment before he nodded, which elicited excited squeals, and they buoyantly hurried outside.

He had to help them distribute Ain's many packs on the other two horses, so that Ileana could ride on the third horse. Ain apologized to him about the inconvenience, but Geralt was far from upset. He had just remembered a small part of his past for the first time since he woke up without his memory. It could not have happened at a more convenient time, but he found the occurrence strange. First Ain's puzzling turn up, and now this exceptional incident - the coincidence made him ponder.

He usually enjoyed solitude. And now he had two women to look after. Reflecting back on the day, he admitted that Ain's company was neither bothersome, nor unpleasant. He had initially intended to allow her to come along until they arrived in Dorian. Once he got her safe into the city, he thought he could leave her behind. Now he wasn't so sure if that's what he wanted.

They were already riding on the empty road in the clear silence of the night when he came to his realization.


	3. Chapter 3 Family secrets part 2

Geralt arose from his slumber at the first signs of morning. The small fire he had been meditating by was now only a spot of ash and scorched ground. He made camp during the night for the sake of the two women that accompanied him. After a few hours on the road the excitement of the previous events had settled, and Ain kept yawning. Her questions kept coming, but were less and less frequent and spirited. Both she and Ileana were affected by what they saw in that basement, but where Ileana only wanted to get as far away as possible and put it behind her, Ain wanted to know everything about it. What it was, where had it come from, what was it doing, why had Dochia kept it in there, how had the creature enslaved the old woman, why had the creature let her live. He wished to spare them the morbid details, but Ain wouldn't give up. When he told her that Dochia was feeding the beast, the information had given her pause. He looked and saw the horror on her face. Ileana started crying and told him that the old hag was no better than that monster, and she wished that he had killed her. Ain repeated to her what he had told them, that the old woman had been enslaved. She concluded that she could not have known what she was doing. Geralt understood that Ain was trying to rationalize the dreadful thought that someone would be capable of such an abominable deed, and he didn't want to shatter her illusion. Not yet at least.

He watched her sleeping peacefully. Her understanding of the world spoke to her inexperience. She seemed too trusting in the good nature of people for her own good. He reached out and placed his hand on her upper arm squeezing it gently. She opened her eyes and blinked a few times, before her gaze focused on his face.

"Hi Geralt," she said softly, smiling up at him.

She looked quite endearing, with pink cheeks, and her hair a messy haystack of soft strands spread around her head. Her body radiated warmth and a sweet and pleasant scent. "Time to get up," he told her, and stood up to put some distance between them.

Ain awoke Ileana who was sleeping besides her, then raised herself and stretched. Geralt tried to look away and he caught Ileana eyeing him. She didn't shy away at his raised eyebrow, and seemed pleased to get his attention.

He let the two women pack their belongings, and he hurried to gather wood for a fire from the clump of trees at the foot of which they had made camp during the night. He wished to get on the way as fast as possible, but after a brief consideration he decided to get a small fire going after all. The morning light was still not quite bright yet, and the air was cold. A thin layer of fog covered the damp ground.

When he returned they were still fussing with packing. Ain had tried to raise her tent before she went to sleep, but had given up after several unsuccessful tries. She was now struggling to pack it back in the sack it had been wrapped into, which suddenly seemed too small. He couldn't help but give her an "_I told you so"_ grin which only antagonized her more.

He kindled the fire and then offered to help her so they could get on their way faster. Afterwards they sat down and Ain passed food around: cheese, cucumbers, tomatoes, onion, smoked ham, boiled eggs, bread and honey, then fruits and water. Geralt asked them to eat well, because they wouldn't be stopping again before nightfall.

He set a steadfast pace the whole day and they made good distance. He drove them without rest, and they managed to reaching the southern gate of Dorian just after sundown. They would all sleep better in a bed than on the cold ground he told them when they complained.

The city gate was closed. Two guards were keeping watch outfront. As they approached, one of the guards came forth at a few steps, holding up a torch and resting his right hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Halt! The city's closed for the night," he uttered, looking apprehensively at Geralt. "Come back in the morning."

"I live here," Ileana answered him. "Dogan the vendor is my husband."

"I don't care who you are. No one comes in after sundown. That's the order," uttered the young slender guard with an air of authority that Geralt had a hard time taking seriously. He was considering having to convince him by other means when Ain nudged her horse forward and moved in front.

"Please, sir, let us pass. We are simple travellers weary after a long day's journey. We would be very grateful to you if we didn't have to spend the night sleeping on the ground when there's a warm bed to be had on the other side of the fence."

Her mellow voice got the guard's attention.

"I'm sorry miss, but I have my orders," the guard spoke to her in a softer tone. "Unless you have a letter of safe conduct from the King or the Mayor, then I can't let you in."

"Your vigilance is praiseworthy, sir. But you have nothing to fear from us, I promise. We are honest, law abiding people. I do not have a letter from the King that states so, but is there something else that can convince you that I speak the truth?"

"Where will you be staying?" the guard asked her.

A bloke charmed by a young, pretty woman was such a cliché, Geralt thought. But the oldest trick in the book proved effective yet again - so well that he himself was in fact close to falling for it.

Ain gave Geralt a fugitive look, but he remained silent, judging that it was best not to draw attention to himself in this situation.

"My house is on Tanner Lane," Ileana answered. "Fourth from the end of the street. You can ask for Dogan the vendor, he's my husband."

"Ileana lives in the city, but Geralt and I are visitors. Do you require that we stay some place in particular?"

"You're free to stay where you like. Have you come for the fair? The inns are getting crowded already, so you've got no time to lose if you want to find rooms. Gregoir, open the gate," he yelled at his fellow without looking back.

"You have our gratitude, sir." Ain exchanged one more look and smile with the guard. "We wish you a good evening."

The big gate of reinforced wood was opened for them. Ain waited for Geralt and Ileana to take the lead and show the way into the city.

The main city road was empty and broad enough to allow them to keep on riding. The hooves of the horses resounded loudly on the stone pavement into the silence around them. Some indistinguishable noises came from a tavern further up ahead.

"My house is this way," Ileana pointed at a narrow side street where they would have to continue on foot.

Geralt jumped off his horse, and reached out to give Ileana a helping hand when he heard a loud thud behind them. He turned promptly and saw Ain sprawled on the ground face down. He hurried to her side, turned her and picked her up, placing her on one of his knees and looking her over for any signs of trauma.

"Are you hurt?"

"Just my knee."

There was nothing visible, so Geralt turned his gaze to her face.

"What happened?" Ileana asked and knelt beside them as well.

"I fell," she said, massaging her knee.

"That's obvious," Geralt stated, and then continued in a softer tone, "You could have seriously injured yourself."

"I just couldn't feel my legs for a moment when I got off the horse."

Geralt felt a bit guilty. They had been riding the whole day and she looked exhausted.

"Can you stand up?" he asked.

"I think so."

"Come on. You'll be able to rest soon." he said, and helped her up. She walked, limping slightly with one leg.

They followed slowly in Ileana's footsteps down the dark, winding alley that was bordered on each side by tightly packed townhouses with weak, yellowish lights shining from the windows.

They reached their destination not very long after.

Loud chatter and laughter was coming from inside the house that Ileana told them was her home. Geralt helped them tie the reins of the horses around a post near the entrance. The door was unlocked, and Ileana went inside first, followed closely by Geralt and Ain, but they came to an abrupt stop just inside the door. Four pairs of eyes turned towards them with surprised expressions from around a table covered with left-overs and countless bottles. The sudden silence was broken by Ileana's choked voice.

"Who's that?" she asked looking at the scantily dressed young woman sitting on one of the men's knee.

The man looked baffled and no sound came from his open mouth. The woman in his lap looked expectantly at him, then shrugged him off and answered boldly.

"I'm his fiancee. Who're you?" she asked back at Ileana, measuring her with contempt.

"I'm his wife, you stupid whore," Ileana spat out angrily.

The other two men sitting at the table who had been watching closely broke into heartily laughter.

"Dogan, you dog," one of them uttered smacking his fist hard on the table, causing the bottles to clatter.

"Dogan, is this true?" the woman in his arms asked, appalled.

"Well Dogan, what do you have to say for yourself?" Ileana asked him, maddened when the man remained silent. They were all waiting breathlessly for his answer.

"But..." the man stammered, raising himself with no consideration for the woman on his lap who stumbled backwards. "You weren't supposed to come back."

"What do you mean, _she wasn't supposed to come back_?" Geralt asked him in an ice-cold voice.

"Who're you?" Dogan eyed him aggressively.

"I'm a witcher," Geralt told him, looking him straight in the eye. He noticed the subtle flicker of fear as the words sunk in.

"Why did you bring a witcher here?" Dogan asked Ileana, full of rage.

"He saved me and your mother from a horrible creature that lived in her cellar," Ileana answered on the verge of tears.

"What?" Dogan said distressed. "What did you do to mother?" his voice trembled and he stepped forward, but chickened out and stopped midway.

"Your mother's fine," Geralt told him impassive. "But I can't say the same thing about the creature she was taking care of."

Dogan flinched at those words under Geralt's close scrutiny.

"You know what I'm talking about, don't you?" Geralt continued and he saw the rage bubbling up in him. Dogan was all red in the face and he clenched his fists at his side.

"You disgusting worm!" Ain broke the intense silence. "You knew what your sick mother was doing?"

The shock and revulsion in her voice sent Dogan over the edge, and he was no longer able to withstand the pressure. He plunged forward with a roar of anger and raised his fist, but Geralt was ready for him. He intercepted Dogan halfway, evading his arm while planting a hard blow under his ribs at the same time that made Dogan double over. Dogan never knew what hit him when Geralt's fist made contact with his head a second later, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Dogan's supposed fiancee gave a pitched scream, bringing Dogan's buddies out of the shock. They both rushed towards Geralt giving him no doubt of their intentions. He sent the one coming from the left stumbling backwards with a kick to his lower abdomen, and he turned just in time to seize the blow of the man to his right by gripping his arm with his own and punching him hard in the nose. The man fell on all fours, allowing Geralt to easily finish him off. Geralt chose to kick him in his stomach instead of his face, and the man tumbled at the feet of his recovering buddy.

The man still standing looked in horror at Geralt and uttered a scared, "We're leaving."

"Good choice," Geralt answered and opened the door watching them closely.

The standing man helped his buddy up, and they hurried to get out, keeping their eyes on Geralt and as much distance as possible from him when they passed him by. Dogan's fiancee hurried behind them. "I'm leaving too," she said.

Geralt watched the three of them walk away towards the main street, then closed the door and turned towards Ain and Ileana, who had retreated into the corner during the fight. They both looked at him bewildered, but there was admiration in Ileana's look, while Ain just looked scared.

"Are you ok?" he asked, mostly towards Ain.

She nodded, then looked at the unconscious man on the floor. "Is he ok?"

"I hope he's dead." Ileana came forward and spat on his body.

"He's just unconscious. He'll wake up soon," Geralt told them.

"You can't leave him here," Ileana implored. "You must take him to the dungeon."

"Where is it?" Geralt asked.

"I'll come show you."

Geralt dragged Dogan outside and threw him on the back of his horse. Then they all went back the way they came, and continued up the main street leaving the southern city gate behind them. They went past the tavern they saw earlier, where people kept coming in and out, most of them too drunk to give them any attention. Further ahead they reached a big house with many bright lanterns hanging all around, where a hanging sign said "Four-leaf Clover Inn."

"Ain, take your horses and go to the inn," Geralt told her. She was still limping slightly and he saw no reason to drag her along for the tedious job ahead of him. "I'll come find you there soon," he told her, when she looked at him in alarm.

She did as asked without a word to him, but she told Ileana she'd come see her the following day as she took the reins of the horse from her. Geralt watched her go inside before he and Ileana rounded the corner near the church and continued on a smaller side street that turned out to be a blind alley. Ileana pointed to the door of a low stone building. It was locked so Geralt slammed his fist on it several times before he heard a latch on the other side being opened. A guard looked at him through the peephole.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to lock him up," Geralt answered, pointing towards the limp body hanging on the back of his horse.

"Why? Who's he?" he guard asked.

"He's my husband," Ileana said, "and he tried to kill me."

At the silent hesitation of the guard Geralt reached for his pouch and showed him a handful of coins. "For your trouble," he told him.

"Fine," the man said, closing the peephole and opening the door. "But you must come talk to the captain in the morning. Bring him in."

Geralt dropped Dogan in one empty cell, and the guard barred the door, locking him in after he checked his pockets. He then followed them back to the entrance and locked them out in the street again.

"Come on, I'll take you back home," Geralt offered, and helped her up on his horse.

"Thank you," she said clinging to him.

"This job proved difficult," he answered.

"I have the gold I owe you at home."

Geralt followed Ileana into one of the rooms when they got back at her house. She placed a lit lantern on a cupboard, then searched inside a linen chest placed at the foot of the bed.

"It's not here," she said, distressed and searching with both hands through the contents. "It's gone," she uttered again in a panicked voice and feverishly emptied the contents of the linen chest. When there was nothing left inside, she turned and looked at him exasperated. "That rotten swine must have taken it."

"You can go ask him in the morning," Geralt told her calmly, "but I doubt he'll tell you, that is _if_ there's any gold left."

She raised herself from the ground and dried the tears hanging in the corners of her eyes.

"Is there another way I can pay you?" she asked, coming closer, and pulling at the upper lacing of her dress, beginning to free her full breasts from their tight confinement.

"You don't have to do this," he told her, unstirred.

"You are generous as you are brave, witcher," she said, coming to stand close to him. "You've done much for me," she continued, removing her dress from her shoulders to let it fall to her waist, revealing her soft, heavy breasts. "Let me pay you back."

She seemed to know what she was doing and he didn't argue. She unbuckled the leather strap that held his scabbards and his swords on his back, and let them fall to the floor, then his jacket. She then knelt in front of him and unlaced his trousers, and rubbed him through his small-clothes. His blood rushed south causing a familiar tingling in his lower abdomen, and he became instantly hard under her deft touch. She freed him from the confining garment and grabbed him with both hands uttering shameless appreciation. He remained still watching her, and she looked up at him. When she met his gaze, she trailed her tongue along his length from the base to the top, adding tenfold to his pleasure, and making him intake a sharp breath. She agonized him further by swirling her tongue around his tip while she worked him with her hands, and he had an increasingly difficult time standing still. He couldn't help a satisfied groan when she wrapped her lips around him and sucked him inside her mouth. He placed his hands in her hair gently guiding her tempo, but otherwise let her do most of the work. He pulled out in the last moment and spilled himself on her chest and breasts, while she gave him a pleased look.

He grabbed her by her arms and lifted her up, then pushed her back and spun her around, pressing her against her shoulders to bend her over. She propped her hands on the linen chest with a light giggle. He lifted her gown to her waist and pulled down her undergarment, exposing her curvy hips and the soft plump flesh of her behind. His length became rock hard again at the contact with her delicate wet folds, which he rubbed briefly with his tip before he gave into his growing need to burrow himself inside her. He sheathed himself in one deep thrust and they both let out loud sounds of pleasure. He began moving at a steady pace and she kept pushing against him and meeting his thrusts, breathing heavily. Her moans became more and more intense and when he felt her walls clamping him gently, he pushed himself deep and rode on the wave of pleasure by grinding against her with slow circular moves to which she screamed, "Oh, gods." He grabbed her hips in iron grip restraining her from collapsing, and he only gave her a moment to recover before he resumed pounding into her harder and faster. The sounds of suction and wet skin pressing and separating were overshadowed by their loud moans and grunts, and Geralt felt his limit approaching. Her spasming inner muscles undid him this time, and with one last deep thrust he climaxed inside her, before he pulled out and allowed her to collapse and melt down on the floor, trying to catch her breath.

He pulled up his trousers and laced them back on. Normally he would have stayed the night to make sure he got his money's worth. But his mind was on Ain, and he wanted to make sure she was safe.

"Will you be all right?" he asked her.

Ileana was leaning against the linen chest with her head fallen back, and she just nodded and muttered, "Mhmm."

"Then I'll take my leave." he said, grabbing the rest of his things from the floor.

o0o

From the back of his horse he was able to glimpse further ahead on the main street and he was suddenly stunned in place. The view of the city's northern gates triggered a vivid flashback. There was turmoil in the city but only as fuzzy details in the background, and the crystal clear recollection of a terrible fight fought long ago in front of those gates. He killed a manticore there. The corner of his mouth rose in the hint of a smile. Another small piece of the memory puzzle was falling into place. He had hoped that undertaking a journey through previously familiar territory would help him remember, but not a single memory had come back to him during the three months he had been on the road. It wasn't until after he had met Ain that it happened. He couldn't be sure this was her doing, but he was inclined to believe so. He hadn't told her about it yet. He hurried towards the inn.

He stopped by the notice board near the entrance and looked over all the scrolls and scraps of paper covered with poor handwriting that were nailed there. He ripped off one that said, "Witcher urgently needed" and placed it in his pocket, then brought his horse out back and took all the packs with him before he returned to the front entrance.

A man well past his best years who was standing behind the counter inside the inn came over as soon as he saw him enter.

"Ah, master witcher, young lady Ain said you will be arriving. Come, follow me this way," he said, and walked up the stairs. "My wife has made a room ready for you."

"How much for the room?" he asked.

"Oh, no worries, lady Ain has already paid full lodging for two weeks."

"Where's Ain's room?" Geralt asked.

"Over there, next to your room," the man said and pointed towards a door when they reached the the candlelit hallway at the top of the stairs. "Here's the key to your room. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?"

Geralt was awestruck by the reception he received. _How the fuck was Ain making this happen?_

He was no longer in doubt that this was her handiwork. He had barely been tolerated in all the cities and villages he passed through on his way, and now he was being treated like some kind of royalty.

"My horse needs to be taken care of. And I need some food," he told the waiting man.

"Of course. I'll get right to it," the innkeeper said, eager to please.

His room was simply decorated but cosy. There was a fire in the the fireplace and lit lanterns by the table and bed. Geralt dropped his backpack, and went out again. As soon as he knocked on Ain's door, he heard her light steps as she hurried to open it.

"Geralt." he saw relief washing over her face. "Come on in."

He stepped inside and handed her the packs he was holding. "I brought you your things."

"Thank you," she said, and grabbed the parcels, wincing slightly in the process.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered, and dropped the parcels at the foot of the table beside her other belongings, then brought her palm up and looked at it. He stepped in front of her and took her palm in his hand, looking at some ugly scrapings she must have gotten when she fell earlier, but which he had failed to notice.

"It's nothing," she said, and pulled her hand from his, lowering it to her side.

"How's your knee?"

"Better," she said in passing, and her mind seemed to be somewhere else. "How is Ileana? Did you get Dogan to the dungeon?"

"Yes, and she's fine."

"Poor Ileana, what she has been though... I can't comprehend how someone can be so selfish and cruel. It is of some consolation that she at least got away from him. I hope she was at least a bit relieved..." she said, pensive, then looked at him unsure. "Was she?"

"Like you can't imagine," he answered, and couldn't help a crooked smile.

"That's good."

"I suppose," he said, and then glad to change the subject he gestured towards the apple on the table from which a bite was missing and asked, "Is that your dinner?"

"Yes," she answered absent-minded after a brief look at the place he pointed. "Geralt, there's something I want to ask you," she said, looking troubled.

"Come, let's get something to eat," he answered and placed his hand on her lower back pushing her gently towards the door. "You can ask me downstairs."

"But I don't feel like eating now," she resisted stubbornly.

"Trust me, you'll sleep better with a full stomach," he told her, and put more pressure into his arm, to which she submitted.

They found the innkeeper's wife busying herself in the kitchen. The short fat woman was in remarkably good spirits considering the late hour. She moved quickly about, showing them into the dining room, then hurried and brought them supper. Two big fluffy omelets with cheese, ham and pickles on the side, and two mugs of ale. Geralt felt his mouth water and his stomach cramp with hunger, and he wolfed down the food placed in front of him. Ain was just as engrossed with the food, apparently feeling like eating after all, just as he thought she would, so neither of them said anything for a while.

"You must tell me how you got these people to be so hospitable," Geralt demanded after he sated his hunger.

She sighed, but to his surprise didn't put up a fight. "It's very easy Geralt," she explained in a serious tone. "People here seem to like a lot these shiny stones." She put her hand in pocket and brought it up again, handing him several hard, sparkling gems.

"How many did you give them?" he asked worried.

"Two red ones."

"Do you know how much they're worth?"

"No."

"Where did you get them from?"

She hesitated a moment before she answered. "My father gave them to me," she said, and then continued. "But listen Geralt, there's something more important I want to talk to you about."

"What's that?" he asked, distracted.

"The bones in that cellar..."she said, shuddering lightly. "Who did they belong to?"

"That's impossible to say," he answered on a dark tone, brought suddenly back from his reverie.

"If Dogan knew about what was happening, he might know. We must find out," she told him anxious.

"I doubt he'll be willing to share that information. Why?"

"Those people must be missed by their families and loved ones. Someone might be looking for them."

"I don't know if it's possible to find out," he told her reluctantly.

"Please, Geralt?" she looked him in the eyes, and pleaded heatedly. "Will you please try?"

At that very moment he was beginning to comprehend how she was able to persuade people so successfully. She had an arsenal of tools at her disposal, which, deliberately or not, she wielded masterfully. A sweet and honest look with lively eyes that seemed to pierce right into one's soul and inspired instant trust, a silver tongue, not to mention a shit-load of money which she carelessly gave away left and right. She lacked knowledge about a great deal of things, but maybe he had something to learn from her as well. Sincere and selfless compassion for complete strangers was not something he experienced often.

"Fine," he conceded. "I'll see what I can do."

The glint of joy that appeared on her weary face had just made the trouble worth it. But he might just be in deep trouble himself, he thought while he emptied his mug of ale.


	4. Chapter 4 First day in Dorian

The gentle rays of the afternoon sun played an ever changing mosaic of light and shadow on his bare skin as they pierced through the branches and the slightly trembling leaves above him. Heady aromas of ripe fruit filled the air. He delighted in the pleasing touch with complete peace of mind. Two small bare feet came into view just within arm's reach, stepping away through the thick green grass. He let his eyes lazily follow up the contours of her delicate ankles and calves, and the back of her knees, and up her slender thighs, lingering a good deal on the two full moons of her posterior before moving on to her curvy hips swaying mesmerizing him with every step she took, and her long raven-black hair brushing against her tiny waist. She reached up for a big red apple hanging on a lower branch, offering him the splendid view of her naked sex in the process. The tantalizing sight made his hardened length twitch and he jumped up and strode towards her, catching her in his arms just as she turned. A pair of striking violet eyes met his while she brought the apple to her lips and took a bite with a splashy sound. Juice trickled down her chin as she grinned at him. He pushed her hand away and devoured her lips hungrily with his own, and plunged his tongue between them, tasting the apple in her mouth mingled with her sweetness. When she pressed her smooth body against him with a moan, his world shrank to one single concern: the throbbing, aching need for her. He raised her thigh around his waist holding it firmly in place with his arm, and pushed the tip of his length against her entrance.

His vision went blank for a moment before his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room. He rolled over on his back dragging along the crumpled sheets around his waist. The throbbing in his groin was very much real and it was filling his awareness more and more, while he felt the memory of his dream fading away like sand slipping through his fingers. Was it a dream or a memory? He had the nagging sensation that he was missing something important, but he couldn't recollect what it was. He threw the covers aside and got up, went straight for the little basin and splashed his face with cold water, chasing away the last shadow of the dream.

He got dressed and went out. The inn was quiet. The elderly innkeeper was sleeping on a cot behind the counter and didn't awake when he passed by and went outside. The air was refreshingly cool, and filled with the melodious song of a nightingale. The moon was still visible, but the stars were starting to fade away in the grey light of the morning. He walked around the building to the stables and checked on the horses. They had been well attended to, so he just threw them one more hand of hay. With nothing else to do before everybody else got up, Geralt turned to go back inside, but when he came out front he changed his mind and chose to scout the area while the streets were still devoid of people.

The main street ran through the city in an almost straight line from the southern to the northern gate. The merchant quarters were situated towards the northern gate beyond which the road led to Vizima. The houses got more opulent the closer he got to the market square which was deserted at the moment. Some of the buildings looked more familiar to him than others. As was the case with many places, the sanctuary of prayer stood tallest, and was the best cared for building. Smaller and more modest houses bordered the narrow dusty streets beyond the temple, their size decreasing the closer he got to the city walls. He discovered another tavern hidden on a back-side street that also functioned as a house of ill repute and was open for business despite the early hour - not something that interested him beyond the matter of fact level. He didn't have anything against the trade per se, but he didn't need to seek out this kind of services. Ever since he awoke at Kaer Morhen in the close care of the sorceress Triss Merigold, who didn't spare any method to make sure he was in fit form, he had opportunities to get laid. Maybe not as often as he would've liked, but he still would not resort to paying for it.

The sun was rising on a perfectly clear sky and the city was starting to came to life. The first to greet the day were children running out of the shabby houses of a poor neighborhood where Geralt found himself at the moment wandering the streets.

When he returned to the inn, morning business was in full swing. Some guests were getting ready to leave, others were coming down the stairs or were being served breakfast, and the innkeepers were bustling around to accommodate them. A young woman carrying a laundry basket came to him and asked how she could help. He asked for some food and found a table towards the back of the dining room that gave him a good view of both the interior and out the window.

He was nearly finished with his meal when Ain found him. She hadn't noticed him at first, and he observed her from his seat. She inquired of the innkeeper about him as the first thing. She turned and searched the room with her eyes, and when she met his, visible joy spread across her face. She exchanged a few more words with the innkeeper before she came up to him.

"This place gets very noisy in the morning," she stated in a lively tone, taking a seat at the opposite side of the table. "I can't wait to get out and see the city. What do you plan to do today?"

There were a couple of things he needed to take care of, but he felt torn about leaving her to fare on her own. He'd only just met her, and barely knew her, and he couldn't understand the reason why he was so taken with her, and worried about her safety. Somehow she was becoming his concern.

"You'll see. You're coming with me," he told her, and watched her pleasantly surprised look.

Her exuberance was contagious. They chatted back and forth about trivialities, she in a light and bubbly manner and he enjoying silently her good spirits while she hurried to eat.

o0o

The towns folk and peasants from the nearby villages bringing their wares to the market in small wagons were bustling on the main street in the sunny morning. They walked with the flow towards the market.

A dreadful looking old woman sitting on the side of the road called up at them. "Help an old woman, merciful masters."

He felt Ain's brief light touch on his forearm and he halted and looked at her. Understanding her intention, he grabbed her wrist and stopped her in her tracks as she was reaching for the small drawstring bag wrapped around her wrist.

"Unless you have an endless supply of those, you need to learn the value of money." He reached for his pouch and placed a few orens in her palm. "Here, give her these."

Ain looked at him with comprehension, then turned and bowed to place the coins in the woman's wizened hand. The woman seized her hand and pulled her closer down, telling her in a sinister tone. "Good girl, you must leave this evil place. It is cursed."

"What? Why do you say that?" Ain asked startled.

"I've seen things," the woman snapped at her. "My poor son, he's bewitched. All he does now is the biding of an evil sorceress. And she doesn't suffer young girls," the woman voiced warningly.

"That's enough old woman." Geralt intervened, trying to free Ain's hand.

"Leave me be," the woman cried and pulled her hand away. "You have the evil eye. Begone."

Ain looked resentful at the old woman, then turned and told him, distressed, "Poor woman. This is terrible."

"Let's go," he grabbed her hand and pulled her along, before she got any other ideas.

The market square was full of people moving back and forth between stalls at a slow pace. Some merchants had even placed their products on rugs laid on the ground. Geralt made his way through the crowd, looking often behind him to make sure Ain was keeping up. He wished now he hadn't let her hand go. When they reached in front of the shop he was heading for, he pulled her to the side and placed himself close in front of her, shielding them as much as possible from prying eyes. He asked her to show him what she had in her small drawstring bag. He picked two big diamonds and sapphires from her hand, and asked her to put the rest in the bag again. He held the door to the shop open for her to enter, and he followed her closely behind.

The fat, overdressed merchant inside took a close look at the gems through his magnifying glass, turning them over to view every side, while Ain was looking curiously at the display windows filled with jewelry and all kinds of engraved objects made of precious metals. Even after Geralt bargained with the merchant for a better price which he reluctantly paid, the merchant still looked satisfied with the purchase. Geralt handed Ain the pouch filled with orens that he obtained for the stones, which she thanked him for, but looked at him as if she didn't quite understand the meaning of it.

"Come, I'll show you how to use them," he told her at the silent question in her eyes, and pushed her gently towards the exit.

They walked out in the bright sunlight and the noise of the busy market. Geralt led them past the stands displaying pottery and tools, and colorful carpets and rugs, but when they came by the first stand of clothing, Ain stopped and asked him to wait. The middle-aged saleswoman hurried to praise her merchandise, and Ain got quite overwhelmed by the the quick flashing of dresses in front of her and the woman's aggressive attempt to persuade her to buy. She tried to get away by taking a couple of steps back, and told the woman that they were all beautiful dresses, but not what she was looking for. She then turned around and hurried to walk away. Slightly amused by the flustered look on her face, Geralt followed after her but not very long. Ain had stopped again only two stands away and picked up a long light cambric blouse with colorful embroidery. The merchant told her it was handmade by his wife, and Ain asked how much he was asking for it.

The man answered 200 orens.

"That's pretty expensive for a blouse," Geralt stated out loud, and Ain turned to look at him with an unspoken question in her eyes. "100 orens and we'll take it," he told the merchant.

The man agreed and hurried to pack the blouse and wrap it. When the transaction was done, Ain took the small parcel and smiled happily at him. "Thanks."

"You have to learn to bargain over the price," he told her. "Don't pay what they're asking right away."

"Well...I'll try," she said, distracted by the surroundings, then told him "Look, books!" and hurried up ahead, sneaking skillfully through the crowd. By the time he reached her again she had already picked up two books, and was avidly searching through the stacks.

"Look, Geralt," she said, pushing the books against his chest, gesturing him to take them, while devoting her attention to the books on the stand.

He took the books and looked at their covers. "_Lara's gift_" and "_Foreign Lands"_.

"I think I'll have this one as well." She handed him another book. "And this one."

"You don't have to buy them all at once, you know."

"But they might get sold out," she said looking at him. "Fine, just one more."

She picked up a battered book with leather covers and uneven yellow pages, which seemed to be the only one of its kind between the rest, and she opened it carefully. "How much for these books?" she asked the salesman without raising her eyes from the book.

"That one is 500 orens," the man answered pointing at the book she was holding. "The rest you can get for 20 orens apiece."

"500 orens? What book is that?" Geralt asked in amazement coming closer.

"It's called _Physiologus." _Ain answered, and hold the book for him to see it.

"Aye, the man said, very old book. You'll find none like it."

"Where did you get it from?" Geralt asked him, examining the book.

"I bought it during my travels." the man answered evasively. Geralt looked him intently in the eyes and with a quick, discrete movement of his wrist and fingers by his side, he pushed his will like an invisible wave on the man's mind.

Unaware of the hex, but under Geralt's tight mental grip, the man spilled out. "A peasant sold it to me. He said his grandma had died, and he was selling her belongings to get money for the funeral, but I think he was lying."

Still absorbed by the book in her hands, Ain remained oblivious to what had just occurred. "How about I pay you 500 orens for all these books?" she asked the merchant.

Geralt freed the man's mind, and he blinked confused once before he turned his gaze to her. "No can do!" he said.

"Really?" she wondered more than questioned. "Well, then how about 540?"

"580 for all 5 books."

Ain gave Geralt a quick glance, but he didn't intervene. "Fine," she said. "Here's the money." She turned again and looked at him disconcerted. "I hate bargaining."

"You _are _amazingly bad at it," he grinned.

"Well, you didn't teach me how to do it," she argued vehemently.

"I didn't think it was necessary," he answered calmly. "It's not science, and you were otherwise able to easily convince the guard to let us into the city the other day."

"But that was different."

"How so?"

"I don't know how to explain... It just felt right. I didn't have to think about it, it just ...came to me. Bargaining to pay less felt wrong. I couldn't do it heartily."

"It didn't feel right to pay less?" he grinned in disbelief. "You should know they always ask as much as possible, but in the end will sell for the price people are willing to pay. Remember that."

"I see. It must be hard to have to make a living like that. It is not something I'd like doing. Maybe it made him happy that he made a good sale today. Then it wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Except it happened at your expense."

"Fine," she scowled. "I see your point. But I still don't like it. Mmm, what's that smell?" she asked, her mood changing in a flash to her joyous self again.

Freshly baked bread and pretzels were being sold from a stand nearby.

"We must try this," Ain turned to tell him, then hurried ahead and asked for two pretzels. They were almost too hot to hold so she turned to give him one with a sense of urgency, then blew air on her fingers. He moved the books under his arm and took the pretzel with the other, their fingers brushing lightly. Ain held her small parcel under her arm, and the pretzel in her hand, and she paid with her free hand. "I like it," she told him, chewing her first bite.

As they walked and ate, they reached the blacksmith stand at the end of the row. It was now Geralt's turn to stop and examine the articles on display. Ain stood next to him, their arms almost touching, distracting him by her nearness. She picked up a knife, holding it between her fingertips, as if she was afraid to touch it. Geralt asked to see it, and she handed it to him. When their hands touched again, her hand lingered. She looked up at him, and when she met his gaze she drew back her hand and quickly looked away.

He weighed the knife in his hand. It was solid, but not too heavy, and the blade was sharp.

"You should buy it," he told her, and handed it back.

"Really? What am I to do with it?"

"You never know when it'll come in handy. Best to be prepared."

"If you say so," she agreed simply, and he wondered just how much she trusted him. "Will you...?" she gestured discreetly towards the merchant.

He grinned, shaking his head. "You'll never learn if I do it for you."

"Please?" she smiled disarmingly.

"No-huh."

"You are a harsh teacher."

"It's for your own good."

"I really can't see it," she argued childishly.

"You will some day," he answered, amused.

She scowled at him, then turned towards the merchant who was busying himself with sharpening a blade, and she asked for the price while he oversaw the transaction.

When they walked past the stands where farmers sold fruits and vegetables they stopped and picked different fruits, placing them into a small bag made of fishing net that Geralt had purchased for her. He watched her pick a few apples and place them in her bag. She took one apple out again after paying, and bit hungrily into it. His mouth watered at her simple gesture which he found strangely arousing, and he felt a jolt shooting straight to his groin.

"Let's go. We've spent enough time here." he told her harshly, not fully comprehending his reaction.

"Where are we going?" she hurried behind him.

"To take care of what you asked me last night," he answered without looking back.

"Really?" she asked pleasantly surprised. "How?"

"Have you noticed how you keep asking me questions all the time?" he told her, still feeling vexed for reasons he couldn't put his finger on.

"How can I not? You never volunteer any information!"

"Because I'm not used to having to explain myself." He slowed his pace allowing her to catch up with him.

"I understand. But then I have to ask. How else am I supposed to know what I'm about to step into?"

"Look," he gestured towards a wooden board nailed by the door of an austere building.

"_Hugh Caverach. Investigator and lawyer_," she read out loud, then looked at him and smiled.

He held the door open for her and they stepped inside a dark and chilly office smelling of ink, parchment, and tobacco. A man behind a desk raised his head from his papers.

"Welcome friends," he said, measuring them discreetly, his eyes lingering on Ain. "What can I do for you?"

"Are you Hugh Caverach?" Geralt asked approaching.

"In person," the man answered ostentatiously. "The most famous detective and lawyer in the city," he added, raising himself from his seat. "Please, take a seat." He gestured towards the two chairs in front of his huge desk.

"What happened to?" asked Geralt, ignoring the chairs. Ain remained standing beside him as well.

"You knew them?" the detective asked, in an excessively friendly tone.

"I had dealings with them in the past." He saw Ain shoot him a glance from the corner of his eye.

"Ah, well, my friend, it grieves me to tell you that they are no longer among us. Such a loss. But don't you worry, you can safely address yourself to me. I'm their proud successor, and I swore to carry on their legacy."

A skeptical "Uh-huh" was Geralt's initial answer. "Do you know Dogan the vendor?" he continued.

"Yes. The man's a mean gambler and womanizer with fondness for the bottle. Why? Does he owe you money?"

"No," Geralt answered simply. "His mother lives in a small village barely two days' ride towards Maribor. I killed a fleder in her basement. The creature had been fed for quite a while with human livestock. I want you to find out who those poor bastards were. Dogan should be able to help you if rightly persuaded."

"Interesting. Clever way to get rid of problems. Definitely an intriguing job. There is only the question of my payment."

"How much?"

"500 orens."

Ain handed him her pouch of money, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the detective's hawk-eyed gaze.

"This investigation is expensive. I'll pay you half. Show me some results, and you'll get the rest. You'll find Dogan in the dungeon. Go make sure he doesn't go anywhere any time soon."

"Where will I find you?"

"At the inn."

o0o

"We have to tell Ileana." Ain told him as soon as they stepped out, looking at him through narrowed eyes and shading her eyes with her hand. Geralt got temporarily blinded by the bright sunlight as well, but his eyes adjusted rapidly.

"Later. There's something else I need to do now," he answered, and handed her a piece of parchment just as she was about to open her mouth. She smiled understandingly, and read the paper while he led them back on the main street and towards the church. In the back of the yard of the church they found a man hammering at some wooden boards that were clearly assembled in the form of a coffin.

"What do you need?" he asked without stopping or looking up.

"I'm a witcher. I'm here for the contract."

"Ah," the man said turning towards them, and looking curious, especially at Ain. "Master witcher, thank the gods you're here. We've trouble up to our ears. The cemetery has become a dangerous place. I can't work anymore. What I bury in the day gets dug out at night, and the Reverend keeps pestering me. But what can I do, huh? Does he think putting a dead body to rest is easy?"

Geralt was accosted by the smell of alcohol on the man's breath while he kept ranting and venting his frustration.

"What's going on? Why is the cemetery dangerous?" Ain asked, worried.

"Because the dead refuse to rest in peace. But fear not, young lady, the dead can't get beyond the city walls."

"I'll take care of it if you pay me." Geralt cut him short.

"Of course, master witcher. Only you must get this off my back so I can work in peace again."

"It'll cost 200 orens."

"200 orens? That's a month's pay." Geralt remained impassive at his lamentation, and the man gave in quickly. "I'll get you your gold. The Reverend will dig deep in the collection box to have the mess cleaned up."

"Make sure you have my gold. I'll come back for it tomorrow. How do I get to the cemetery?"

"You go out the city through the south gate and then go right. It's about a mile to the west."

o0o

They walked away towards the street again, Geralt walking half a step behind Ain and watching her backside. She had removed her knitted long sweater as the air got warmer, and remained in a simple silky grayish-blue dress matching her eyes, that fell tantalizingly over her body. As soon as they stepped around the corner of the chruch, Ain turned brusquely to face him.

"Geralt," she called, making him stop, and he raised his eyes to meet hers. "Do you have to do this? You heard the man, it is dangerous and... frightening."

"This is what witchers do. It was you who wanted to come along for the ride, remember?"

She stepped to his side with a musing expression on her face, and they started walking again.

"I don't suppose you'll let me come with you?" she asked a moment later.

"You suppose right."

He looked at her closely and wondered about her dejected look. What had dispirited her all of a sudden? Was she worried about..._him_? Or was she sad that he had turned down her request to come with him to the cemetery? It had to be the latter, he thought. She said she wanted to see the world. As much as he enjoyed showing it to her so far, it was unimaginable to take her along for a job. Nothing in the world could persuade him to put her life in danger like that.

"Can we go to Ileana now?" she interrupted his train of thought.

"All right," he agreed, willing to indulge her, wishing to bring back the smile on her face. "But I need to get back soon and get ready."

"But I don't understand," she spoke again after a short while. "How can dead people... not stay dead?"

"It's most certainly some sort of necrophages."

"Necrophages?"

"I can show you when we get back. _In a book_," he added at her baffled look. That got her smiling again.

Ileana welcomed them gladly into her house, and apologized for having no refreshments to serve them. "Water is just fine." Ain told her, and then proceeded to account for the day's events and for the newest development concerning Dogan. Ileana kept looking gratefully at Geralt, since Ain didn't mention that it was her idea, or that she was paying for the investigation, but kept telling her _we_ did this and _we_ did that. She was frequently distracted from her tale by Ileana's lustful looks at him, and Geralt noticed Ain blush and look puzzled and sometimes avert her eyes at the other woman's sly gestures and comments. He was so captivated with Ain's reactions to the other woman's flirtations, that he let Ileana continue unhindered. When they took their farewell, Ileana leaned against him and pressed her breasts to his chest, telling him softly and suggestively, "You can come visit me any time, witcher." He doubted he ever would again.

o0o

The afternoon sky had gotten clouded and the city looked more gloomy in the gray light. They walked in silence back to the inn, and soon after they arrived small drops of rain started hitting the windows. He helped her carry her purchases up to her room, then left her alone and went to his room. He got the bestiary from Vesemir out his pack, and browsed the pages he had been carefully reading many times before. He looked at the carefully inscribed pages and drawings, but his thoughts flew to the older witcher. After he woke up at Kaer Morhen with no memories of who he was or how he had gotten there, the man had taken him under his wing, and in no time he felt as if he had known him forever. Which he had, he'd been told, but those memories were still lost to him.

He found his box with potions, another gift from Vesemir who worked his hardest to prepare him for this journey. The older witcher reluctantly agreed to let him go only because for some reason his fighting skills were intact. He couldn't remember how he learned to move the way he did when holding a sword, just as he couldn't remember how he learned how to read or to write, or to use magic. But all these skills came as naturally as breathing to him, without having to give them any conscious thought.

He heard a light knock in the door, and met Ain's hesitant look when he opened. "I had Gladis prepare supper. Do you want to come eat?" she asked him with a small uncertain smile.

He smiled mostly at the fact that she always seem to know the names of the innkeepers and address them with astounding familiarity. She treated everybody she met as equal even though the differences were obvious. Maybe that's why people took such an easy liking to her.

"I'm coming. Let me grab something first."

"Will you bring the book you promised to show me as well?" she asked from the hallway after him.

He quickly grabbed the bestiary, his weapons, and three small vials from the box with potions, then went out, handed her the book, and locked the door behind him.

The dining room downstairs was busy with guests from the inn who were being served their evening meal. One table was set ready with deep plates, a big bowl filled with steaming hot soup, and a basket of bread. Ain led them to it, moving lightly between the other tables. They attracted a great deal of attention, but she didn't seem to notice. As soon as they took their seats, she placed the book on the corner of the table and opened its cover. "_The Tome of Fear and Loathing_," she read in a whisper, then turned the pages one by one, immersed in the reading and paying little attention to the food. He observed her closely while he ate, and clearly saw the repulsion on her face.

"That's not the best reading material to go with a meal."

She shuddered at the image drawn on the next page, and answered looking up at him, "This is horrendous. Do these monsters really exist?"

He nodded at her then reached across and closed the book. "Eat."

They were soon brought second courses, and Ain kept gazing at the book for the entire meal, but didn't open it again. When he felt sated, he stood up, intent on leaving. The hour was not late, but it had already gotten dark outside partially because of the heavy dark clouds covering the sky and showering the city in a monotonous drizzle. "I must get going now," he told her.

"Are you sure you have to do this?" she hurried to stand and stepped in front of him blocking his way.

"Mhm."

"I wish... there was another way."

He took a step forward until only one inch separated their bodies and bowed his head to her ear.

"Why do you wish that?" he whispered.

Ain gasped and froze in place, and had a hard time giving a coherent answer.

"Because," she whispered back, then swallowed to regain her voice. "Because I don't want you to get hurt."

He wondered about her obvious affected reaction. Combined with her delightful scent and the near proximity to her, he could hardly restrain his desire to pull her closer and touch her. But this was not the place, nor the time, so he forced himself to step away. And when he did, there was not one thing on his face that could betray his thoughts. He shrugged lightly at her, and told her in a cool voice. "That risk can't be avoided." He reached up to his chest to tighten his scabbard holding his swords across his back, and walked towards the door, and she followed after him.

"Just... be careful." she told him anxious, as he was about to close the door behind him.

The cold drops of rain slapping him in the face cleared his head and chased away the slight physical arousal, but he was left with a warm, fuzzy feeling. He liked having someone who cared and waiting for him to get back.


	5. Chapter 5 Monsters small and big

The rain pattered on the wooden tiles of the houses with increasing intensity. By the time he exited the city gates his clothes were already soaked and hanging heavy and uncomfortably on his body. The country road leading to the cemetery ran along a drain ditch for wastewater from the city, which was now overflowing. The battered ground was muddy and strewn with shallow pools. The water seeped through his leather boots causing them to make squishy sounds with every step he took. Even with his nocturnal vision his visibility was reduced due to the heavy rain, so he only saw the full expanse of the cemetery first when he finally stood in the middle of it.

The cemetery was in a deplorable state, covered with overgrown weeds in most places, and if there had been any alleys between the tombs, they were now too obscured by overgrowth and rubble. Most of the memorial stones were either fallen, broken, or displaced, and many graves stood as gaping maws in the ground. The disturbed graves were mostly on one side of the cemetery, which Geralt guessed must be where the most recent dead had been buried.

He approached one dark hole to take a closer look and felt his medallion vibrate slightly. His feet sank into the wet freshly dug soil, slowing him down. The cadaver at the bottom of the pit was in an advanced state of decay. Geralt took notice of the cracked skull missing the brain, the ripped thorax and the torn limbs chewed to the bone.

The warning vibration of his medallion occurred simultaneous to a whooshing sound from behind him. He turned at the same instant and with an instinctive lightning-fast movement of his left hand forced the air around him into a forceful push away from him, forcing back the creature that was about to attack him. He drew his silver sword and held it with both hands falling into a fighting stance. The staggered creature in front of him recovered quickly and charged again. He held his ground, letting it come to him. The humanoid form had a slightly hunched muscular body with greyish smooth skin, and a square and hideously deformed head, with blank eyes and exposed razor teeth. Features that were unmistakably the traits of a ghoul.

The creature jumped again in the air, more agile than its weight should allow, and stretched its long clawed hands intent on ripping and slashing him. He moved to the side at the last moment, while slashing his sword at the same time along the creature's abdomen. The ghoul fell empty handed on its knees with a loud shriek. Not wasting any time, Geralt turned and impaled his sword in the creature's back, then pushed the body forward with a heavy kick. The ghoul's body glided along his sword and fell lifeless, face forward on the muddy ground.

It all happened in the course of seconds, but the agonizing shriek of the creature attracted several more ghouls that jumped out of nearby graves. He was now facing three more ghouls, and a fourth was flanking him from the right. He moved his arm in quick wide arcs grazing the limbs of the creatures that were trying to knock him down with the tip of his sword, enough to keep them at a safe distance, but not enough to mortally wound them. He rolled to his left and faced the three ghouls that were now aligned in front of him. A gush of flames burst from his hands, sending them shrieking backwards. He quickly pressed his advantage and cut down the scattering creatures one by one.

He circled the graveyard, walking carefully between the graves, and made short work of several more ghouls. It didn't look like the graves had been disturbed towards the older part of the cemetery, where the ghouls that feasted on rotting flesh would find nothing to eat, but he scouted the area nonetheless, just to make sure. Thick wild bushes were growing randomly between the graves. As he passed by yet another one, his nose was assaulted by the repellent smell of putrefaction.

He followed the smell, searching the ground closely with his eyes, and was led to a low pile of old rubble from a torn-down structure. On the broken stones and chunks of wood lay the body of a woman, judging from her clothing and long braided hair. The body was in advanced state of decay and any facial features were no longer recognizable. He approached and examined the body closely. The ragged bites left by the ghouls were clear, but it was not what had caused her death. Geralt removed the blood-stained dress from her sternum to take a better look, and found a different sort of wound than on the rest of the body. There was a clean cut right above where the heart should have been, which could only be the result of a sharp instrument. The abdomen was ripped off, and all the organs were missing, but the difference of the traces left by a knife and by claws were clear to him. He noticed something clutched in one of the woman's hands, and he lifted it and removed a piece of white cambric tissue embroidered with two letters in one corner. He placed it in his pocket and stood up. The body was in no shape to be moved, so he had no choice but to leave it there for the time being.

o0o

When he thought about Ain waiting for him to get back, he didn't imagine she would do it literally. But there she was, sitting by candlelight at a table close to the entrance. Her gaze shot towards the entrance the moment he walked through the door, and she pushed her chair back with a screech, rousing the innkeeper from his numbness and attracting the looks of the patrons that were chatting and nursing their drinks at the tables nearby. She almost ran to him, and stopped abruptly barely two steps away.

"Geralt, so good you're back!" she said, barely containing her excitement. "Are you hurt?" She added quickly in a worried voice, darting a look of concern to the gore on his clothing.

"I'm not. What are you doing?" he stopped in front of her and asked.

"I've been reading... Waiting for you," she admitted. "I just couldn't sleep," she continued, flustered, and looked away from his gaze.

"Are you crying?" He stretched his hand and cradled her face in his palm, drying the traces of wetness on her cheek with his thumb. She brought her hand reflexively up where she felt his touch and placed it over his, pressing it lightly and briefly closing her eyes, then shook her head.

"No," she barely whispered.

The brief tender moment was interrupted by the innkeeper telling him about warm water kept ready for him in the washing room. Ain startled and blushed, but even though they let go of their hold on each other, he ignored the man and hold Ain's gaze waiting for an answer.

"It's the book," she smiled apologetically. "Lara's gift. It's a very sad story. What happened in the graveyard?" she changed the subject.

"I'll tell you tomorrow. You should go get some rest," he told her in a changed tone, and the last sentence came out harsher than intended.

If she kept hanging around him he might be overcome by temptation to reach out and do something about it. Yet there was something in her look that made him suddenly hesitate. An inexplicable adoration, but not the kind that invited frivolous endeavours. He might not remember most of his past, but he had acquired enough knowledge about human nature in the recent months to be a fairly good judge of character. Compared to the other women he had encountered, she lacked the subtle knowhow. There was a kind of innocence in her look that made him suspect that physical intimacy was yet another area where she lacked experience. This fact did not hold any appeal for him. At the same time he couldn't stop wondering what made her look at him that way. Did she know something about him that he didn't? She remained an intriguing puzzle for him to figure out.

The warm water of the bath had dissipated all the tension in his body, and he was left in a relaxed and drowsy state. He raised himself from the spacious wooden tub, dried his body and headed to bed to make good of the few hours left before morning.

o0o

A brisk, chilly wind sent the dense fluffy white clouds skittering rapidly across the sky the next forenoon. Ain struggled to gather her hair in a bun at the top of her head as the breeze blew chaotically at the long tendrils and the skirt of her knee-length dress. They had been taking breakfast together, and Geralt had briefly told her about what happened in the cemetery. As he expected, she had a lot of questions, but to his surprise she didn't squirm at the unpleasant details and even went on to ask him if he retrieved any bodily fluids from the ghouls' carcasses. She was a fast learner, he admitted, amused. Still, the information about the body of the woman which he had found unsettled her, and she seemed to ruminate about it even now.

They found the gravedigger in the same spot he had been the day before, and Geralt told him unceremoniously, "I got rid of your problem in the cemetery. You need to go cover the graves today, or they might attract other creatures."

"A hundred thanks, master. The Reverend has your money. He's in the temple, and asked me to send you to him."

The sound of the massive wooden temple door closing behind them reverberated through the cavernous room, which seemed to amplify all sounds. Their steps on the stone floor, the rustling of their clothes while they moved, even their breathing were sounds Geralt was suddenly acutely aware of. They walked towards the other end of the room, where he could see another smaller door standing open, from which he could hear a low murmur of a voice.

There was a certain familiarity about the place. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't say what it was. He abandoned the effort of searching his mind for the source of the connection when they reached the door and his eyes fell on the figure standing in front of a bookstand. A tall, thin man with unkempt grey hair and beard was chanting indistinctly in a low voice. He stopped and opened his small piercing eyes at Geralt's call.

"I'm here for my payment, Reverend. I rid the cemetery of ghouls and I agreed with the gravedigger upon 200 orens for the job."

"Witcher. Vasilij was telling the truth then. You say there were ghouls in the cemetery?"

"That's what I said. I also found the body of a woman. The ghouls had come for her, but foul play had befallen her. I wouldn't know who she is, but she had long, fair hair, and I found this handkerchief in her possession. The body needs to be buried today."

"This is bad news, witcher." The Reverend shook his head while inspecting the small piece of fabric Geralt held out to him. "The Mayor's daughter has been missing for several days, and by the looks of it, it is she you found. I will make arrangements for the burial." The Reverend handing back the handkerchief. "You go talk to the Mayor."

"My payment, Reverend," Geralt reminded him.

"Of course," the man answered, retrieving a pouch from the folds of his robe. "200 orens."

Geralt weighted the pouch once in his palm before tying it to his belt under his tunic, then he turned and walked away followed closely by Ain.

They made their way through the busy city, and they were directed towards a grandiose villa surrounded by a low stone fence and a remarkably well-kept garden. An elderly woman servant opened the door shortly after Geralt used the door knocker. She asked them to wait in the hallway after he mentioned that he had information about the Mayor's daughter, and she hurried upstairs. Both his and Ain's attention were drawn to the opulent decorations of the interior and at the impressive painting of a beautiful woman looking proudly down at them. Her hair was dark, so she could not be the woman he had found, Geralt thought.

The old woman returned from upstairs and informed them that her master would be down shortly, but she lingered fidgeting, and after some hesitation she dared to ask him, "Have you found Gertrud, master?"

"That's what I'm here to find out, good woman. Don't get your hopes up."

"Oh, my poor girl." The woman burst into tears.

"Geralt of Rivia," he heard his name being called by an imposing voice at the top of the stairs, and they all looked in that direction. A robust man with graying temples and gentle but strained facial features came down towards them. He moved with ease despite the long, thick robe he was wearing over his other clothing.

"What brings you here?" the man asked when he reached the bottom of the stairs. "What is the matter, Geralt? Don't you recognize me? I admit, the years have been kinder to you than they have been to me."

"I'm afraid I don't, Mayor, but by no fault of yours. I've lost my memory."

From the corner of his eye he noticed Ain flinch at the news and turn towards him.

"That's unfortunate, Geralt," the Mayor responded. "I could tell you many things, but I'm afraid you found me at an unfortunate moment. Forgive me for being such a poor host." He turned to look at Ain and continued. "I see you have a new companion. Hello my dear. I have a daughter just as beautiful as you." His brows were creased with sorrow, and his voice was anguished.

"A new companion, Mayor?" Geralt asked, making the man compose himself and turn his gaze again towards him.

"I suppose you really lost your memory if you can't remember the troubadour. He always bragged about being your best friend, and never left your shadow."

"What's going on here?" A voice interrupted them before Geralt could ask more questions, and his eyes fell upon the woman whose portrait was hanging behind her. She descended the stairs gracefully, and stopped several steps before she reached the bottom, looking down on them much like her image in the portrait. Geralt felt his medallion vibrate slightly under his shirt.

"Hortensia," the Mayor's face lightened. "Meet Geralt of Rivia and...I'm sorry dear, I didn't get your name."

"I know who he is," the woman interrupted rudely before Ain could answer. She only gave Ain a short annoyed look before she turned her gaze to Geralt and spoke in a derogatory tone. "What are you doing here, witcher? Has Yennefer finally released you from her leash, or have you grown a spine and found yourself a new play-thing?"

It wasn't the first time he had been met with discontent, and he had discovered that whatever was thrown at him couldn't make him lose his temper. That was a fortunate thing. But he felt at a disadvantage, because he realised that her words were supposed to mean something to him. He didn't like being in the dark.

"Do I know you?" he raised his head to look at her.

"Darling," the Mayor intervened. "Please be nice to our guests. Geralt, I am afraid to ask, but Nanny told me that you have news about my daughter?"

Geralt retrieved the monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the man. "Is this hers?"

"Yes," the man answered distressed and grabbed desperately the small piece of cloth. "Where did you find it?"

"I'm sorry, Mayor. I found it on the body of a woman in the cemetery."

"Noooo!" the Mayor cried in agony, and grabbed the stair rail to keep his balance. "It cannot be! Not my beautiful girl! Tell me you are mistaken, Geralt," he begged, and dropped disillusioned to the bottom step of the staircase.

The old servant woman who had retreated earlier hurried into the room at her master's call, and came to his side.

"Bring him a glass of wine." Hortensia commanded her without moving.

The old woman hurried to do as asked.

"My daughter, Geralt," the man cried, holding his head in his hands. "She was the light of my eyes. How could this happen?"

"I'm sorry for your loss," Ain told him compassionately.

"I told you your daughter was up to no good, and you refused to listen." Hortensia accused coldly.

"How did you find her?" she asked him authoritatively.

Geralt didn't want to add more to the father's suffering, but he deserved to know the truth.

"Your daughter's death was no accident," he began to explain.

At those words the old woman dropped the goblet of wine from her hands on the expensive richly woven rug. The wine spread into a big red stain.

"Watch what you're doing, foolish woman." Hortensia yelled. The old woman trembled and fell to her knees, but raised her head and pinned her assailer with her eyes before she broke in tears.

"You're going to pay for that," Hortensia retorted angrily, then uttered a small incantation while waving her hands, producing an identical goblet filled with wine, which she handed to the man sitting at her feet.

Geralt felt his medallion vibrate more vigorously at the surge of magic. So she was a sorceress, he noted to himself.

Ain went to the old woman's side, knelt besides her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Tell me what happened, Geralt," the Mayor spoke with determination, gripping the goblet like his life depended on it.

While he explained what happened in as few details as possible, Ain helped the old woman up, and followed her out into the next room, disappearing from Geralt's view. "I told the Reverend to make sure the body gets buried today," he said, concluding his account of events.

"I need to see her with my own eyes," the Mayor raised himself. "Hortensia, be so kind and hand me my coat."

The woman rolled her eyes, then snapped her hand in the air with an annoyed expression, and a coat flew from behind her into her hand. "I don't think this is a good idea, darling," she told him while she handed him the coat. "You'll only prolong your suffering."

"I have to see her." he told her while he handed her his robe. "I'll send for you later." he turned, and kissed her on her cheek. "Thank you, Geralt," he said, before he hurried out the front door.

"See yourself out, witcher," the sorceress told him before she turned and walked back up the stairs.

He found Ain in the kitchen sitting and talking to the old woman about Gertrud.

"Geralt, how is the Mayor?" Ain asked him when the old woman paused her tale.

"He went to arrange the burial. He will send for you," he told to the troubled old woman, who was again starting to become agitated.

"Nanny has been taking care of Gertrud since she was little. She's been like a mother to her," Ain told him. "Gertrud's mother died," she continued, saddened and pensive, and for a moment it looked like her mind strayed.

"And Hortensia?" Geralt asked.

"She was hired to tutor Gertrud, but she never liked my girl," the old woman answered. "She was always making her cry and lock herself in her room. I tryed to tell the master, but he wouldn't listen to me. He's blind, and listens only to the sorceress. He's made her the mistress of this house. He took down the painting of his wife and daughter, and put her painting up instead, so that anyone who enters this house knows that."

"What painting?" Ain asked.

"The big one above the stairs."

"I don't understand." Ain said confused. "The woman in that painting is not Hortensia."

"Yes, my girl, it is her."

Ain looked at him for affirmation, and remained troubled after he nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Who would want to hurt the girl?" Geralt asked the old woman.

"Everybody loved Gertrud. She was the most beautiful girl in town. Everybody but Hortensia."

"Could I see Hortensia's room while she's not there?"

"She won't let anyone in, but I'll help you. Come again later from the pathway in back and I'll let you in. The sorceress walks in the garden in the evening."

When he and Ain returned to the city there was a clear change in the atmosphere. People were streaming towards the church, where small gatherings stood on the street caught in heated discussions. Bypasseres were stopping and listening to the gossip, and were spreading the word further.

"Geralt, you don't think Hortensia killed Gertrud, do you? Ain asked him while they walked back towards the inn.

"I don't know. I guess she could've found easier ways to make away with her if she wanted. You seemed troubled about the painting. What was that about?"

"Oh, yes, the painting. I don't understand, the woman in the painting doesn't look like Hortensia."

"It is her."

"Why do you say that? It doesn't make any sense. Hortensia's nose is longer, and her eyes and lips are different, her ...breasts as well. Maybe she looked like the portrait when she was younger, but she doesn't look like the same person to me."

He stopped as though he'd been struck and grabbed her shoulder, turning her towards him. She looked at him, startled, but he didn't give her time to react.

"How old would you say Hortensia is now?"

"I don't know, I can't guess her age. She looks older than the Mayor. Why are you looking at me like that? You saw her yourself."

"I think you and I saw very different things. How is this possible?"

"What do you mean? What did you see?"

"I see her like she's in the portrait. Which means that you can see beyond her spells. How?"

"I... I don't know how. I didn't know... Geralt, please, I really don't know. If I was trying to hide something from you, would I have told you about it in the first place?"

He let go of his hold on her, and they began walking again. He didn't know what to make of this.

"Who are you, Ain? Where do you come from?" he asked in a milder voice.

"I can't tell you, Geralt. I'm sorry. It's ...complicated. Please, trust me."

"Trust is a two-way street."

She remained silent, and soon they reached the inn. The mood inside was unusually agitated. They were told about the Mayor's daughter, and that everyone would soon be attending the funeral, so they would not be serving lunch. Ain told him she would like to go to the funeral, then asked him if he would like to accompany her. It was obvious to him that that's what she wanted, but their earlier discussion created some distance between them, so she was tentative in her approach. He agreed to come along and he soon found himself walking again the same muddy country road towards the cemetery, along with a long convoy of people. Ain told him that she had never been to a funeral, and he told her that he couldn't remember if he had been to any funerals. Their conversation became light and comfortable again as they moved from one subject to the other, but both of them avoided asking sensitive questions. And then they fell silent during the funeral. He watched her closely while she looked unhappy at the mourning Mayor and Nanny. The sorrowful mood seemed to rub off on her, and she clutched her arms around herself.

Hortensia, who stood looking impatient near the Mayor was throwing them and everybody else displeased glares, and she scowled at him when he caught her gaze. But what seemed to put her off most of all was a young man standing further away from the crowd and watching her intently. Hortensia was trying unsuccessfully to ignore him, and her eyes darted towards him now and again. Geralt had the distinct impression that they knew each other. His instincts were confirmed several hours later that evening.

He and Ain walked around the Mayor's house towards the servant's entrance, as agreed-upon with Nanny. Ain asked to come along, and he didn't refuse her, seeing how the old woman had opened up to her earlier in the day. Just as they rounded the corner to the back of the house he saw a silhouette coming down the stone steps of the terrace that led to the garden. He pulled Ain back behind the corner of the house, mostly shoving her with his body in one quick motion, and he was grateful that she remained silent and seemed to understand his intentions. Still, he noticed her sudden intake of air and he gestured her to remain quiet and still. He peeked around the corner and saw Hortensia walk on the gravel-covered alley bordered by a waist-high carefully cut green fence that led towards the center of the vast green garden, and he got a sudden impulse to follow her. The clouded evening sky shrouded the garden in darkness and the trimmed busks could provide the necessary cover for him to remain unseen.

"Wait here," he whispered in Ain's ear, and lingered a moment there, drawn in by her pleasant smell.

He felt her hand on his arm, and she whispered back, "No, I'm coming with you."

He was in no position to argue. He met her determined look, and told her in a whisper "You must follow my every move, and be very quiet. Do you understand?"

He smiled when she only nodded in response, as if to prove she knew how to be quiet. He let

Hortensia walk further away, then signaled Ain to follow him. They walked over the grass holding their upper bodies low until they reached behind a carefully trimmed higher bush of rhododendron. Similar flowering bushes were placed symmetrically on both sides of the alley at regular intervals. The alley spread further away into a wide circle surrounding a pedestal with a small statue of a nude woman holding a jug at just the right place to remain decent. This was were Hortensia stopped, walking back and forth between two low stone benches placed on either side of the statute, and throwing glances from time to time towards the back of the garden, as if she was expecting someone. Every time she turned her back on them, Geralt led them quickly behind a bush closer to her position, until they were just feet away from the nearest bench, and could distinctly hear the noise made by her every step. The green fence was tall enough to allow them to sit on their knees side by side, and they waited without moving for a while. Just as he was starting to doubt anything would happen, he heard the distinct noise of a new set of feet approaching in a hurry. Their view was almost entirely obscured by the plants behind which they took cover, but he moved his head into a position that allowed him to view bits and pieces of what was going on behind the branches and leaves.

"My lady," a male voice called eagerly, and Geralt recognized him as the young man he saw earlier at the cemetery.

"You idiot!" Hortensia replied, and slapped him hard with the back of her hand. The man fell to his knees at her feet, and grabbed his cheek in his hand.

"My lady, what have I done to deserve your wrath?" the man asked, anguished.

"You didn't bury the body!" she spat venomously.

Ain snapped her head towards him. He saw the disquiet in her look and gestured for her to remain silent.

"Please, forgive me, my lady," the man begged, looking up at the sorceress. "I couldn't stand the sight of it, I had to get away. I wished to show you as soon as possible that I did as you asked me to. I needed to see you my lady," the man continued feverishly while the sorceress remained unmoved. "Please, you must forgive me. I cannot live without you. I'll do anything."

"Tell me," she dictated.

As if her words were a cue, the man recited monotonously what seemed to be a well rehearsed speech. "You are the light of my eyes, the most beautiful woman in the world. Please, allow me to kiss your delicate hand. Your touch is like rain on scorched ground," he followed, his voice filled with despair. The sorceress held out her hand and he took it carefully into his own, and drew it slowly to his lips. He remained like that, venerating his goddess until she drew her hand back forcefully and ordered him, "Enough."

"Please, my lady," he begged, bowing his head to her feet and hugging her ankles. "Let me worship your beautiful body, let me taste your sweetness."

Hortensia placed a high heeled foot on his shoulder, and the man hurried to hug and kiss her ankle, trailing kisses up her leg.

Geralt had a good feeling about what was about to happen between the couple, and assessed the possibility of leaving now without being discovered. The sorceress was facing the direction of their retreat, and even though the light was dim, they were still too close to remain completely unseen if they were to move now. He took a quick look at Ain who was sat stunned, holding her breath. The young man was now under the sorceress' dress, and reached a place which Geralt could only guess judging from the moan he drew out of her. He sensed Ain flinch at his side, and he feared she was about to bolt, so he turned towards her, and placed his hand on hers, giving her what hoped to be a reassuring look.

He was no longer in doubt as to what part of the sorceress' body the man was attending to, as her moans became increasingly intense. Geralt's body didn't care that the sounds were made by a despicable character, it responded just the same. He shifted uncomfortably, but he didn't have much room to maneuver, and readjusting himself in his pants was not the kind of gesture that would keep the young woman at his side calm.

Ain was gripping his right hand tightly with both hands, and he could feel her pulse racing. When the sorceress asked the man at her feet to remove his clothes, Ain looked at Geralt in panic. He brought his free hand up and cradled her face, holding her gaze for only one short moment before she hid her face in the collar of his tunic. The closeness to her and the fervent sounds of passion in the background were straining his resolve. He could feel Ain's shallow breath and her hair tickling the exposed skin of his neck. Her soft skin was burning hot under his palm, and her increased body heat intensified her pleasant floral scent that was coming in waves off her body.

The sorceress' moans were soon accompanied by the man's sounds of satisfaction and almost unintelligible sentences broken by groans. "I desire...I desire...your beauty..." It wasn't hard to picture what was going on only a few feet away, but Geralt tried hard not to. Ain's hold on him grew stronger in rhythm with the couple's crescendo, and she dug her short nails in his palm. Minutes passed like hours, and Geralt was just as relieved as they were when they finished, but for a very different reason.

As soon as Hortensia departed after a cold goodbye, and he made sure that the young man was gone as well, he said softly in Ain's ear, "It's over." and helped her up. She walked away in a hurry avoiding looking at him, and trying to keep at least a step ahead of him. As soon as they reached the inn she ran up the stairs, and he heard her close the door behind her.

He was lying on his back on the bed when he heard Ain's door open and close, followed by a knock on his door a few seconds later. He stood and opened the door, meeting her insecure look. She was still wearing the same clothes, but her hair was up again.

"I'm sorry." she said solemnly.

"What for?"

"For earlier. I just...It's..."

"You did nothing wrong."

"I know. It's just...never mind. We need to tell the Mayor."

"Tomorrow. He's had enough for one day."

"Yes, you're right. I should go," she added after a small pause.

"You should."

"Good night, Geralt."


	6. Chapter 6 Consequences

It was becoming a habit for them to take their meals together, and this morning Geralt met Ain in the dusky narrow hallway of the inn, as they both came out of their rooms at the same time. She greeted him with a small awkward smile, which made him presume that she was still feeling embarrassed about the incident from the past evening. He had no idea how he was to deal with this girl-woman. The harmoniously balanced features of her face framed by silky long chestnut strands of hair and the soft curves of her slim body were a constant distraction, impossible to ignore despite his best efforts. But he told himself it was wrong to act upon his desire while she was ignorant of such things. Besides, he was not in the practice of despoiling innocents- they required too much work. He was used to pert and eager women, experienced in the art of physical pleasures, who took what they wanted and who knew how to give in return.

They stopped at the bottom of the stairs, taking a moment to survey the room bustling with people. The tables in the dining area had been pushed together to accommodate more guests, and many more were just arriving. Ain went ahead and asked the people at one of the long tables for permission to join them, and the people crammed themselves towards the other end of the table to make room. It looked to Geralt as if the people they were sharing the table with were a large family come to visit the town. Old and young adults and their children added considerably to the infernal noise and commotion in the room with their cries for attention. Geralt and Ain received a few curious looks before the strangers quickly returned to their conversation. Everybody was in high spirits, and the room was buzzing with loud talking and laughter.

From the fragments of conversations that he could overhear, Geralt pieced together that today, or rather this evening was Belleteyn, the holiday of May Day, and a fair was being held in town in celebration. Ain got the same information by simply asking the young woman serving them breakfast. While they ate, Ain's gaze would often glide towards a couple at their table exchanging long infatuated looks. Geralt was amused as he observed her attempts to keep from staring. She was terrible at being subtle, and her expressive face betrayed her curiosity.

Geralt felt someone pulling at his sleeve and at first he thought the young boy was a child who escaped his parents' supervision. Simply dressed and probably not older than ten, the boy spoke more eloquently than expected.

"I have a message from mister Caverach, sir. He said he has some new information. Come to his office as soon as you can."

"Thank you for the message," Ain called after the boy, who ran out without waiting for an answer.

In the city the atmosphere resembled the one inside the inn they had just left. The streets were packed with people and carts, all revolving around the city square and the extended marketplace. The sunny day was probably contributing significantly to the people's good spirits. Geralt and Ain made their way through the crowd towards the detective's office.

When they entered his cool shadowy office, they found Hugh Caverach talking to another man, giving him instructions by the sound of it. The detective concluded the conversation abruptly, signaled the other man away, and turned towards them. The tone of his voice sounded much more appeasing than a moment ago.

"Greetings friends. You are going to be pleased with the results of the investigation."

"We'll see," Geralt answered coolly.

"As I suspected, Dogan has been solving his financial problems by getting rid of his creditors. Several merchants have vanished without a trace in the last couple of years, and a couple of women as well, all with known affiliations to Dogan. I found out that they have been seen in that village where his mother lives. I am still in the process of establishing the identity of the remains from the cellar. But don't you worry, he'll hang for this. I'll make sure of that."

"Hang?" Ain interjected. "You mean, Dogan is going to be killed?"

"That's what hanging means," he retorted with slight sarcasm, but he cleared his throat immediately after a short look from Geralt, and asked in a sweetened voice, "Is there a problem?"

"Can't he remain locked in jail instead?" Ain pleaded.

"He's a murderer, and the punishment for his crime is death by hanging. Blood for blood; that's justice."

"No," Ain retorted. "If you take his life, how does that make you any different than him? You become just like him, a murderer. How is that justice?" she argued with a fiery demeanor. "I can't be a part of this. I don't want to be responsible for his death. You can't let this happen!"

"I'm afraid it's out of my hands. I've already informed the commander of the guards, and I can't stop the investigation. My expenses have already been significant," the detective stated matter of factly, which brought a distressed look to Ain's face.

"I don't care about the money," she told him.

"Ain, you wanted to help the victims," Geralt spoke. He was surprised by her unexpected reaction. The issue of punishment was the humans' affair, not something a witcher concerned himself with.

"How is this going to help them, Geralt?" she beseeched.

"You think a criminal deserves to live?" he asked for his own curiosity.

"I think killing is wrong. No reason can justify it," she said, upset.

Geralt wondered how absolute her noble conviction was. He hoped for her sake that she never had to test her beliefs while having personal interests at stake.

"Young lady, if you wish to help the victims, then this is the best way to do it. Bring their murderer to justice!" the detective said, annoyed.

"Here's your money," Ain handed him a heavy pouch. "Please do what you can for the families of the victims. They deserve to know. Now excuse me, I need to get out of here. Farewell," she said, and walked out.

Geralt gave the detective a curt farewell, and walked out of his office as well. He found Ain standing outside, holding her arms around her torso, and looking no place in particular. He stopped beside her, waiting quietly and looking in the same direction as she did.

"What do you think, Geralt? Can killing people be justified?" she asked genuinely, her voice pensive.

"I don't know. I don't know who I am. As far as I know, I could have killed people. Fighting seems to be the only thing I know."

"Well, regardless of your past. What do you think now?" she turned to face him and looked him intently in the eyes.

"All I know is that I'll draw my sword if I have to defend myself."

She nodded as if in understanding, then asked again after a small pause. "What about Hortensia? What is going to happen to her if we tell the Mayor about what she did?"

"You saw there are consequences to meddling into other people's business. For you as well as for others."

Vesemir's words rang in his mind. _"__A witcher's job is to slay monsters that attack humans. Leave humans to their own devices," _the older witcher had told him over and over again before he left Kaer Morhen. Was he supposed to stand idle and ignore the situation like Vesemir had advised him, or get involved and try to right a wrong like Ain wished to do? Without the memory of his previous life experiences to provide him with wisdom and a compass to navigate new situations, he was filled with doubt.

"This has nothing to do with me, and it's not certain the Mayor will believe us," he continued.

"Even if he won't believe us, we still have to tell him. We can't just turn our backs and let the Mayor live under the same roof with that woman," Ain argued vehemently. "I'm sure he'd want to know that the woman he loves is lying to him."

"Maybe," he said, wondering why he got involved in this in the first place. He sought his suspicion confirmed about the true monster who left the girl in the state that he found her in, one thing led to another, and now that he knew what he knew...

"If you don't want to, then I'll do it alone. I can't just walk away."

...he couldn't walk away, his thoughts resonated simultaneously with her her words. It was too late to do something for the girl that had suffered a cruel fate, but the Mayor seemed like a decent man who deserved to know the truth.

"Let's go," he told her.

"Where are we going?" Ain asked as they made their way through the crowded street.

"We need more evidence if we are to confront the sorceress," he told her while searching through the crowd. If he had been alone while spying on the sorceress, he would had followed her accomplice to find out his identity. But Ain's safety felt more important to him, so he chose to follow her back to the inn insead. He could still find the young man even if it was more inconvenient and time-consuming to search for him. The city was not that big to make a person impossible to find, especially if that person had no particular reason to hide. And today the entire populace seemed to be out on the streets to celebrate the holiday and enjoy themselves.

His eyes fell on the old beggar that they met the day before. Remembering her words, he walked in the woman's direction and stopped in front of her.

"Woman, where is your son?" he asked, and the woman gave him a frightened look.

"Have you come to take him away?"

"No. Tell me where he is. I need to talk to him."

"Please, help him. He's not a bad son, but he isn't himself anymore. He's bewitched. He didn't mean to hurt the girl. My poor boy loved Gertrud," the woman blabbed, looking scared at the people moving around her.

"Where is he?" Geralt asked her.

The woman kept looking left and right without giving any answer. Ain took the woman's hand in both of hers. "Don't worry, Geralt won't hurt your son. What's his name?"

The woman responded to Ain't gentle approach. "Gorik."

"Gorik can help us stop the sorceress who has bewitched him. Don't you want that? Tell us where we can find him."

"He works in the Mayor's garden. He's there day and night, can't live without the sorceress. Please, good girl, help him."

"I'll try. Here, take this." Ain placed her pouch filled with coins in the woman's hand.

Ain then turned towards Geralt pondering, searching for answers on his face. They stood for a long moment facing each other, silent and still in the tumultuous sea of people around them until Ain broke the silence.

"This is difficult, Geralt. So many lives ruined. Why?"

"Do you want to give up?" he asked her quietly.

"The Mayor should be told the truth. I think the truth is more important than anything else."

He nodded and they started walking towards the Mayor's house. Hortensia refused to allow them to talk to the Mayor, and asked them to leave. They went out around the house and found the servants' entrance, and the old servant, Nanny. They were able to convince her to get the Mayor for them. They waited in the kitchen for a while until Nanny could pass along their message. Eventually the Mayor came alone to see them.

"Geralt, what's going on? More bad news?", he asked, after he dismissed the servants from the room. "Let me have it then," he continued after Geralt nodded.

"I've learned who's responsible for your daughter's death."

"What? How? Who? Tell me Geralt, who's the monster?"

"I have good reason to believe that Hortensia is involved."

"Hortensia?" he asked, staggered. "Have you lost your mind? Hortensia wouldn't do that!"

"She didn't do the deed herself. A young man has acted out her bidding. Your gardner, Gorik."

"No. I can't believe it. It's impossible." He hit his fist on the table while shaking his head in disbelief.

"I thought you should know. It's up to you if you want to live under the same roof with your daughter's killer."

"Mayor, Geralt is telling the truth," Ain intervened. "I was with him, and overheard Hortensia talk to a man in your garden last night. Today we found his mother, who told us that Gorik killed Gertrud because he's been bewitched."

The Mayor's face was hard, his body tense. He talked in a restrained tone, obviously trying hard to contain his anger. "Geralt, had it been anyone else but you, I would've thrown them to the wolves. But I know you to be a trustworthy man. You've helped this town in the past. As it is, I am going to trust you and investigate your claim."

He moved with determination and ordered Gorik to be brought to him, then asked them to follow him into the house. The look on Hortensia's face at the sight of them was one of pure hate and indignation.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked and turned towards Geralt. "How dare you disregard my word and disturb the peace of this house?"

"Hortensia, look at me," the Mayor told her firmly. "Do you know anything about Gertrud's death?"

"Know what, darling?" she answered politely and with a distinct tone of superiority.

"Just answer my question," the Mayor said, frustrated and barely containing his anger, then added a toned down "Please" through clenched teeth.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hortensia answered dismissively. "But I'm guessing someone has put ideas in your head." She turned to look at Geralt and spoke, "I don't know what you're playing at, witcher, but you're playing with fire."

Their tense exchange of looks was interrupted by the entrance of a young man who Geralt recognized as the one he had seen in the garden with Hortensia. He also noted a slight flicker of disquiet breaking through Hortensia's mask for the barest of moments.

The young man looked confused and frightened from one face to another, his gaze pausing on Hortensia's face with a silent appeal for support. His view was blocked by the Mayor who stepped in front of him and grabbed him by the collar of his tunic.

"What have you done to my daughter?"

"I..." was all the young man mustered in answer before panic took hold of him and he began stepping backwards and struggling to break free from the Mayor's firm grip.

Geralt started towards them, intent on stepping in between, while Ain called the young man at the same time. Hearing his name, Gorik lessened his efforts to fight back and looked towards Ain.

"Gorik, stop, please." she told him again when she got his attention.

In a matter of seconds Geralt pushed the Mayor away and took advantage of the young man's momentary calmness to use the Axii sign on him and seize hold of his mind. Holding his gaze intently, Geralt asked him, "Gorik, what happened to the Mayor's daughter?"

"I cut out her heart," the young man answered flatly.

The Mayor charged towards him the moment the words fell, but Geralt intercepted and pushed him stumbling back while keeping his gaze locked with the young man's.

"Why?" Geralt asked again.

"For Lady Hortensia, because she told me to."

Hortensia invoked a short verse and the air behind her began swirling and taking the shape of a whirling abyss, pitch-black and bordered by a surreal glow of orange energy.

"This isn't over, witcher. You're going to regret this insult," she threatened, before she stepped into the portal, which closed instantly behind her.

The mayor cried out loud in anger, while running up the stairs where the teleport had just vanished. He yanked Hortensia's portrait of the wall and began smashing it against the stair rail and the floor and tearing it apart. When the canvas lay in ruin under his feet, he asked desperately, "How am I to apprehend her, Geralt?"

"That is no easy task. Another mage might be able to help you locate her."

"What have I done?" he said, and fell down on his knees, grasping his head in his hands.

"It's not your fault, Mayor," Ain spoke. "Such monstrosity is unimaginable and unforeseeable."

"I brought her into my house. And _you_!" The Mayor got up and came towards the young man sitting disheveled on the floor.

Geralt cut him off. "Mayor, consider that he acted under the sorceress' influence."

"And what, let him go?" the Mayor jerked his shoulder to brush of Geralt's hand.

"He's stupefied." Geralt answered, turning to look at Gorik. "Give him time to recover, then talk to him."

o0o

Geralt and Ain left the Mayor's house and it felt like they stepped into another world. Oblivious to the torment and suffering they had just witnessed, the world outside was filled with merry sounds of chatter, laughter and music, with the loud calls of merchants trying to make themselves heard above the humming, and with the pregnant smell of smoke from bonfires and mouthwatering aromas of roasted meat. Rich and poor, old and young were all gathered on the streets to celebrate.

They walked aimlessly through the crowds until Geralt touched Ain's elbow and asked her, "Do you want to sit down?"

She nodded and he led her to one of the tables placed outside on the pavement, where he had noticed that its occupants were getting ready to leave. "Wait here," he told her, and then went and bought steaks and mead for them.

"Thank you," she smiled weakly.

"Are you ok?" he asked her. She was obviously in a gloomy mood.

"I don't know. It's not what I imagined it would be like before I came here."

"What isn't?"

"Nothing is. The livelihood, the people... It's frightening."

"What brought you here?"

"I told you, I wish to see this place, to learn about it."

"But you haven't told me why."

She hesitated for a while, then raised her eyes to look at him. "My mother was born here. Well, not right in this town, but she lived in different places around here. I wish to see these places for myself, to learn more about her."

"Where is your mother now?"

"She died when I was born. All I know about her is what my father has told me. I wish I knew her..." she said saddened.

"And your father?"

"My father is alive."

"And he left you to travel on your own?"

"He didn't have a choice, and I'm not traveling on my own. I'm traveling with you," she smiled genuinely at him.

He returned a slight smile, and told her, "You should eat your food before it gets cold."

She nodded, and began to pick at the meat placed in front of her. Her deliberately non-specific references were an obvious effort to remain anonymous and didn't go unnoticed, but Geralt let it go for the time being. Maybe if given more time, she would open up more to him. At least it was a start.

After they finished eating, they wandered through the crowds and stopped to watch the spectacles and activities along the way.

"Hear your future for five orens, masters," a woman called when they passed by her table placed under an open tent.

Ain stopped to look at the cards the fortuneteller was spreading on her small round table. As soon as the woman noticed her interest, she began hovering dramatically her hands with wide spread fingers over the cards, and said, "Pick three cards, young lady, and I shall tell you what your fortune shall be."

"All right," Ain answered her, then turned towards him. "Wait, Geralt, I want to try this."

"It's a waste of money."

"No, sir, indeed it's not. The cards never lie," the fortuneteller objected, shaking her head and making the stone hanging from her red turban bounce on her forehead.

"Think about it, Geralt, if we knew the future, then we could avoid mistakes and misfortunes, like what happened to the Mayor," Ain told him, then placed a few coins on the table, and pulled three cards from the stack of cards spread face down on the table.

"If only that was possible." Geralt muttered and came to stand besides Ain, looking skeptical at the fortuneteller's act. She turned the first card face up, showing them an abstract symbol of lines. "You are going to cross a river.", the fortuneteller spoke, and Geralt let slip an ironic snort at the woman's ridiculously banal and generic statement.

The fortune teller looked at him apprehensively, then turned towards Ain and told her "You're going to leave something behind, and gain something new."

Ain looked confounded, and Geralt was amused by her effort to make sense of the gibberish.

"Turn the next card," the fortune teller asked her, then read out loud. "The knight of swords. There's a man in your future who'll conquer your heart. But you need to be more forthcoming if you want his love."

"More forthcoming? How?" Ain asked, and the woman signaled her to come closer after giving Geralt another anxious look. Ain approached and bowed, allowing the woman to whisper in her ear.

"Thank you, I think I've heard enough." Ain smiled at the woman, and turned to walk away.

"Wait. Your last card," the fortune teller called, but Ain didn't turn.

Just as he walked away, Geralt turned the last card face up.

"Two swords," the fortuneteller uttered at the card that was indeed depicting two swords placed next to each other, then the woman's eyes moved to the swords on his back. He didn't wait to hear her interpretation of that card, but found the look on her face amusing.

Ain was still smiling when he caught up with her. "What's so funny? What did she say to you?" he asked.

"She said I should do this," she answered, and stepped in front of him, making him stop. She locked her eyes with his and gave him a mischievous smile, as if she was in on a very funny secret. She stepped forward until their bodies touched, placed her hands on his chest, then leaned forward to him and raised herself on her toes until she reached his ear. He instinctively lowered his head and felt her hair on his skin. When she whispered his name in his ear, he felt stunned in place by the surge of pleasure that traveled down his body. Was he imagining it, or had her voice been filled with longing, like a prayer for passion and a promise of fulfilment. He felt incapable of reacting without taking her up on her request, so they stood like that for a long moment, until she pulled away and asked him, "How was that?"

Did she really have no idea how seductive and inviting her little gesture was, he wondered.

"Don't do that unless you're ready to deal with where it leads," he told her firmly.

"What's that?" she asked smiling.

"Something like you witnessed in the garden last night."

"Oh." she smiled awkwardly, and looked away embarrassed.

They continued their tour, and stood by the huge bonfire lit in the middle of the town square until late in the night before they returned to the inn.

o0o

In his dream, Geralt found himself running. Running as if his life depended on it. Smoke was rising from from everywhere around him, enveloping the ground in a scarlet mist. He felt restless, filled with a pressing need to reach somewhere, yet at the same time feeling like he was already too late. He ran and jumped over the broken trunks of trees that lay in his way on the ground, and lost his footing on the red wet ground. The trees had been snapped and knocked to the ground by a devastating force which had left everything in desolation behind it. A deafening sound of heavy hoofbeats surrounded him along with howling screams, and Geralt ran as if hunted by death. He yelled out and pressed himself to run faster, but was brought to an abrupt stop by a dark figure blocking his way. Crippled forms became more visible through the mist as they drew closer from every direction. Geralt raised his gaze to confront his opponent, a rider shredded in dark, standing impossibly high above the ground. The rider's fluttering cloak was immaterial, as if made of smoke. Geralt could feel the smell of it choking him. He suppressed the dread he felt welling up in him, and raised his head, feeling every muscle of his body tense, ready for the imminent fight. The sight of the rider's eerie and distorted face, with sharp teeth and two black hollow orbits staring him down woke Geralt up with an involuntary flinch.

He turned on his back and stared blankly into the darkness. The dream felt so real, he could still smell and taste the smoke burning his throat. The sensation didn't seem to go away despite the fact that he was now fully awake and aware. Could the smoke be coming from outside, from the bonfires, he wondered. It felt much stronger than what could possibly get inside through the closed window.

He raised himself from the bed and quickly threw his pants and shirt on, then his boots and headed for the door. The gush of air stirred by the swinging door was filled with heavy smoke from the dark hallway. In the background he could hear the subtle familiar crackling of burning wood. His first instinct was to run downstairs and see what was happening. The inn was full of people, and no one had yet realized that a fire was out of control. The oddity of it made him run back and grab his swords before he went to investigate. Yet another thought popped into his mind and made him change his intentions. He could not leave Ain behind sleeping in these conditions, he had to wake her and the other guests, and tell them to get out. It was the safest thing to do before he went downstairs to face whatever was going on, just in case he would not be able to get back up again.

Ain's door was locked. Geralt pushed his shoulder into it, which made the lock give way. Ain jumped up scared in her bed.

"Ain, it's me, don't be afraid. Get up," he told her, hurrying towards the bed.

"Geralt? What's going on?"

"We have to get out. There's a fire."

He grabbed her hand without waiting for an answer and dragged her along towards the exit. When they reached the hallway he hurried to slam his fist on the other doors along the way, and Ain followed his example. People were starting to open their doors, the men began yelling fire, several women screamed and children began crying. They were all cramming into the smoke-filled hallway. When Geralt reached the end of the hall at the top of the stairs, he discovered that the fire was already too extensive, making it impossible for them to go that way. The fire was spreading unnaturally fast, like a blanket of brilliant yellows and oranges licking up the walls and ceiling, consuming fast everything in its path, and engulfing the stairs.

"Back. Get back," he yelled at the panicked crowd pushing forward behind him, and tried to get through between them towards the other end of the hall. He couldn't reach there fast enough, so he entered Ain's room, which was the closest to where he stood. He opened the window, pulled it out of its hinges, and placed it away, then turned towards the people that followed after him, found Ain's gaze, and told them, "I'll jump first, and catch you. Lower the children first."

As he reached the ground, he saw several people running towards the inn, and he called out, "Over here."

Soon the air was filled with the ringing sound of a bell and the cries of people alarming the neighbourhood about the fire. Several men came to help grab the people that were being lowered through the window. The windows on the ground floor were spewing powerful flames and rolling smoke wrapped the area in a grey fog, making it impossible to see and breathe.

"Ain, hurry up," he yelled, as he caught a glimpse of her while she helped lower another woman down the window.

"I'm trying," she yelled back, before she disappeared again from his view.

"How many left?" Geralt asked the young man he just broke the fall of, and was helping up on his feet.

The shaking and coughing man answered "One... just one young woman. She said I should go first."

Geralt looked up at the window, but he couldn't see her. He called her, but he got no answer, and he felt the worry rise up in him. People were helping each other away from the burning building and the smoke, and he was left standing below the window. He looked for a way up, but all entrances close by were swallowed by flames.

When she at last called to him he felt briefly relieved until he heard her words.

"Geralt, grab this," she said, and threw him a bag.

"Ain, there's no time for this. Get out of there, now."

"How?" she called, and he could hear the reluctance in her voice.

"Just jump. I'll catch you."

She got up on the window's frame, and after one short hesitation, she leaped in the air. She let out a small squeal when he caught her lithe form in his arms, and she threw her arms around his neck. He held her tight, giving her time to recover, and carried her further away from the smoke that was surrounding them.

"Thank you," she told him, then eased her grip and leaned back so she could look at him. "For getting me out of there."

The sight of her black face smudged with ash caused the corner of him mouth to turn into a crooked smile. He put her gently down, but instantly missed the warmth of her body. She seemed to feel the same way, because she wrapped her arms around herself. She was dressed in only a short and loose-fitting nightgown, and she had put her boots on, which reminded him that she had put her life in danger unnecessarily for some things she felt the need to salvage.

"What's in that bag that's so important?"

"Nothing much, really. I couldn't see anything. I don't even have any clothes left. Yes, I know," she continued defensively after she gave him a brief look, even though he didn't say anything. "But that stuff was all I had, and it's all gone now. What happened, anyway?"

"I don't know," he answered, but the unnatural speed with which the fire spread and the strength with which it was consuming the building they were facing made him believe that magic had been involved.

"So, what are we going to do now?" Ain asked through clenched teeth. Her posture was rigid and she was shivering.

Her choice of words didn't go unnoticed and he considered his options.

"It's time to leave this town," he told her. "I need to buy some equipment first. And... we need to get supplies," he added. "It will be light soon."

This wasn't the best moment to leave her behind, as he had initially intended, he told himself. But in fact the idea of parting ways with her sounded less and less appealing. He wasn't sure he had really meant it at any point so far.

Ain walked stiffly and crouched by her bag lying on the ground. She rummaged through it until she retrieved a black silk pouch - the same one she had offered him less than a week ago when they had met.

"Then you're going to need this," she said through chattering teeth, handing him the pouch.


	7. Chapter 7 Steps on the journey

_**A/N**: Yet again has **PestoMonkey** been so kind to lend me her expertise, so she deserves a big thank you. _

_Disclaimer:_ _The ideas in this story_ _are the intellectual property of Andrzej Sapkowski and/or CDProjekt Red. I just had some fun with them. Hope you'll enjoy as well.  
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><p>Geralt studied the dense clusters of trees bordering the green pasture to the right of the highway, and the long shadows the setting sun was casting from behind the trees. He pulled the reins of his horse turning it in that direction.<p>

"We'll make camp over there for the night," he spoke his thoughts out loud for his companion to hear.

Ain skillfully maneuvered her horse to follow him, and he noticed how she had become a much more confident rider since he'd first seen her mount a horse.

They'd had an uneventful and agreeable journey for most of the day after they left Dorian heading East. He liked that she seemed to be as comfortable with silence as he was. She didn't feel the need to fill the silence with trivial rattle as women generally seemed to do, and which had a tendency to give him a headache. She asked him questions from time to time about what they saw while they rode, and she seemed to absorb the information he shared and reflect quietly upon it. She carefully observed his actions and replicated them, and she faithfully followed his explanations and instructions. It didn't bother him. He appreciated her inquisitive nature, and he was pleased that she seemed to be a fast learner. After all, he was supposed to be her guide, and this was part of the job, he told himself. Though it made him wonder if she had grown up locked up in a tower, so little she seemed to know about the order of the world.

They dismounted at the edge of a clump of trees, mainly oaks and beeches of various sizes. Geralt led them further inside the copse until they reached a small clearing. There they unloaded the horses and allowed them to graze, and they gathered wood for a fire. Just as before, Ain didn't look in the least surprised or curious about him igniting the fire with magic, which he found curious, giving the fact that she had questions about pretty much everything else.

He showed her how to make a holder over the fire for a cooking pot and they got a stew cooking. While he sat kneeling in front of the fire stirring the pot at regular intervals, Ain unpacked her modest belongings. She had sold one of her horses, and bought herself a few changes of clothing among other things. They were very simple and in dull, dark colours, nothing like the clothes she used to wear. She told him she wanted to blend in. She didn't stand out as much in a crowd dressed in the new garments, but Geralt would never mistake her for a commoner.

Ain spread out her bedroll on the opposite side of the campfire, took out a book - one of the few belongings she had salvaged from the fire - placed it on her lap, and began to flip the pages, taking time to look at the pictures. He observed her features bathed in the soft light and dancing shadows cast by the fire. She seemed too absorbed by the reading to notice his intent regard.

"Find anything interesting?" he asked her.

"Geralt, you have no idea!" she answered without looking up. "Or maybe you do," she smiled up at him. "Did you know that some people can turn into wolves? Hear this," she said, turning her gaze back to the book and reading out loud. _"A werewolf, also called a lycanthrope. When a man cursed be, change his shape he will when 'tis night. To kin and fellow alike, of great peril is he." _

A grisly sight flashed briefly in front of Geralt's eyes, carrying him to another time and place. He stepped into a chamber lit by the pale light of morning coming through high windows framed by heavy velvet curtains. The smell of blood and death were so thick in the air, he could almost taste it. A man on his knees was staring blankly at a huge canopied bed covered with fine carvings, rich fabrics, and the bloody corpse of a young woman. Another man flanked by two armed guards stood a couple of steps behind him, asking him questions, which the man on his knees didn't seem to hear. His hair was disheveled, his hands and feet and expensive clothes were stained with blood and dirt. The standing man turned towards Geralt, seemingly relieved to finally have someone he could reason with. He introduced himself.

"Witcher, I'm Wilbrandt Helmer, captain of the guards. Thanks for coming on such short notice. I think someone of your profession is more fit to deal with this nasty affair. Come, take a closer look, and tell me, what am I dealing with here?"

Geralt approached to look closer at the bloody mess in front of him, without letting the kneeling man out of his peripheral view. The white nightgown the woman was wearing and the sheets of the bed were soaked in blood. The wall and the tapestry adorning the bed were splattered with blood as well, a testament to the violence and rage of the killer. The livid body was covered with deep scratches dug by claws, and bitemarks similar to a wolf's, only with much longer fangs. Geralt noticed tufts of thick, grayish-black hair on the pillow, and marks of big bloody paws leading to the adjacent chamber. He followed the tracks with his eyes until he reached a small cradle standing by the window in a pool of blood and broken glass.

"It turns my stomach, witcher," the commander of the guards uttered, noticing the direction of his gaze. "What kind of monster kills women and infants in their sleep?"

"The thing that killed them was a werewolf," Geralt said. "And it's sitting at your feet."

"_For great strength and speed hath he, far beyond normal men and wolves. Thus chain him in silver one must, for that his only weakness is." _Ain's voice cut through the haze of the memory playing in front of his mind's eye.

"Wicher," captain Wilbrand Helmer called imperatively the moment Geralt entered the dimly lit barracks. "Baron Wolfstein escaped from his cell. He twisted the iron bars like they were wax, and he ripped the guards apart. We're going to hunt him down, and we could use your help."

Geralt followed the tracks that led him back to the baron's mansion he had visited in the morning. The place was covered in darkness and as still as a tomb. The door stood ajar, and Geralt pushed it open and stepped carefully inside. He felt his medallion quiver under his shirt. Without a noise he drew his silver sword and climbed up the stairs.

"_Be it your wish to cure him, a shirt with fool's parsley woven into it the cursed man must wear," _Ain continued to read.

The tracks led Geralt to the bedroom chamber. In the dark by the empty, bloodied bed stood a tall creature that looked humanoid. It was dressed in the same clothes Baron Wolfstein had been wearing in the morning when Geralt had first seen him. His giant hands and bare feet were covered with thick grayish-black hair, and were tipped with long claws. His huge head resembled nothing human. His eyes were wild and bloodshot, and from his terrifying jaws full of long fangs hung a long, red tongue.

The creature howled prolongedly and Geralt pointed his sword at him. The beast offered no resistance. It simply knelt and waited for the killing blow. The witcher felt sorry for him.

Yes, he did have an idea about werewolves, Geralt smiled in satisfaction. His memory was definitely returning, even if at a slower pace than he would have liked. Every small part of his past he was getting back was a precious piece that made him feel whole again.

"Oh, look at this, Geralt,"Ain called in an excited voice. "There's something written about witchers. We must hear this." She smiled broadly at him, then returned her gaze to the book and read out loud.

"_A witchman, called by some a witcher. To summon him is most dangerous, albeit one must; for when against the monster and the vermin there be no aid, the witchman can contrive. But careful one must be, to touch not the witchman, for thus the mange can one acquire."_

"What's _mange_?" Ain asked lifting her head to look at him curiously.

"Not something you need to worry about," he answered her grinning. "Don't believe everything you read."

"You're probably right. I've never seen any other witchers, but this picture doesn't do you justice."

Geralt moved his eyes from the swell of her breasts to the page she was looking at, covered with an etching depicting a dishevelled monstrosity with enormous eyes and even larger teeth, riding a horse. In its right hand, the monstrous being wielded a substantial sword, in it's left, a bag of money.

"Wanna hear the rest anyway?" she asked and looked at him briefly before she turned her gaze to the page again and read out loud again. _"And lasses do from him hide away, for lustful the witchman is above all measure, though the witchman greatly covetous and greedy for gold be." _

"I think I've heard enough," he said, filling the wooden spoon with stew and bringing it to his lips.

"How is it?"

"It's done," he answered, removing the pot from the fire. He filled one wooden bowl and handed it to her. "Careful, it's hot." He filled the other bowl for himself, and resumed his earlier position.

"Do you know any other witchers?" she asked him after a moment.

"Yes."

"But you don't travel together," she stated, and he remained silent. "Will you tell me about them?"

"I've spent short time with them after I woke up without my memory." Geralt said quietly, and didn't continue. He was fairly appreciative of her ability to understand his implicit message when she didn't press for more information, and he watched her eyes sparkling with the light from the campfire. She gave him a small warm smile, then turned her gaze away on the pretense of having to pay attention to the food.

Soon after they finished eating, he laid himself on the bedroll by the fire, looking into the darkness above until he fell asleep.

He lay on his stomach on soft green grass, resting his head on his arm, reveling lazily in the afternoon heat under the partial shadow of an apple tree. He was vaguely aware of the soft sounds of approaching steps, when his senses were suddenly awaken by cold drops of water on his naked back, followed shortly by the soft pressure of a body wet and cold and naked crawling on top of him. His awareness was not the only thing roused by the feel of the naked form moulded perfectly against his back, the intoxicating scent of lilac and gooseberries, and the playful bite on his shoulder. He tilted his body and flipped the wet naked woman off his back, then rolled over and pulled her on top of him at the same time. He pressed her against him and captured her mouth with his, but she bit his lip painfully and glided lower like a slippery fish. He grabbed her by her thighs and parted them to gain access to her core, and felt his length brush against her warm, sodden folds. He thrust at her opening and growled when she lifted away with a teasing smile.

Soft noises of movement drew him out of his dream, and before he knew it, he had the form besides him pinned down under his body. The immobilized threat wriggled and he groaned involuntarily at the feel of her body rubbing against his tightly pressed arousal.

"Geralt, I'm sorry," he heard Ain's voice, and his mind registered the words, the tone of voice and the scared look in her eyes.

He cursed under his breath and rolled to the side freeing her. Ain dragged herself away raising her upper body.

"I didn't mean to wake you. It's starting to rain, and I wanted to cover you." She grabbed the oilcloth coat and held it defensively in front of her.

The recurrence of the same vivid dreams of the orchard and the woman with raven black hair and violet eyes made Geralt think that they were trips down amnesia lane. One heavy and cold drop of water found its way through the leaves above and hit his face, bringing him back to the moment.

"Forgive me, Ain," he raised himself as well and looked at her. "I didn't mean to scare you. Did I hurt you?"

"No, it's ok. Don't worry about it."

"Why aren't you asleep?"

"I had a bad dream, and then the thought that all kinds of bugs or snakes could be crawling on me kept me awake. And you said my tent was useless," she accused. "Not that it matters any more," she added apologetically.

"Bugs and snakes are not what you should be afraid of," he grinned. "Your tent would only be a hazard in the face of a real threat. Pack your belongings, we're leaving."

o0o

The rain didn't stop before midday, and neither did they. Ain complained about the humidity in the air which dampened their clothes. She craved to return to civilization.

"I need to take a bath, I don't care if I have to do it in a swamp," she grumbled.

"Trust me, you don't wanna do that. Listen, Ain, you can't expect the same kind of condition you may be used to."

"I know that. Then I'll just keep stinking like this, see how you like that."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Nothing," she hurried to answer in a tone that was telling him just the opposite. She might have sensed herself how unconvincing her answered had been, because she gave him a fugitive look before attempting to redress the situation. "I just didn't think you would like to have to endure someone stinking besides you, that's all."

"How considerate of you," he laughed.

He reached into one saddle-bag for the crude map he bought in Dorian. They were still far away from any village big enough to be marked on the map, but he noticed that the road ran close enough to a river not very far away from their actual location.

They went off the main road, and followed a smaller battered path turning west towards where the river was supposed to be according to the map. The country road led them after a while to a small settlement by the river. Geralt's gaze was drawn to a group of men quarreling at the edge of the cluster of huts. Four armed men were surrounding a dwarf, yelling and pushing him.

"Wait here," Geralt ordered Ain, and nudged his horse. When he reached the group, the men turned their attention to him. He dismounted and walked to them.

"What's your business with this dwarf?"

"We're shaving off his beard. What's it to you?" one of the four answered. He was a thin middle-aged man with deep age lines and puffy eyes giving him a tired look. Geralt noticed an indistinct tattoo on the forearm of his right hand, in which he held a fisher knife.

"You'd be better off moving along," Geralt stated calmly but firmly.

"Love non humans, do you?" the man said, raising his fist.

"Shed your weapon. And stop waving those arms around if you want to keep them."

"Uhhh, a live one!" the man uttered sardonically. "Game boys! Kill the deviant!"

"You asked for it." Geralt said, avoiding the man's attempt to slash him, while grabbing his hand and crushing it in his grip, removing his knife.

The thin man cried and sweared holding his crushed hand, and yelled at his companions. "Kill the non human scum!"

The dwarf didn't stand idle. He drew his axe when one of the thugs - a massive, bald man - moved clumsily towards him with a bat.

A few well placed blows was all it took for Geralt to get the other three rendered helpless and wailing on the ground. The dwarf succeeded in disarming his opponent, and he struck the giant's soft fat belly with the blunt of his axe, causing him to double over with a grunt. Geralt moved in and kicked the hulk in the ass, sending him sprawling on the ground. The big man grunted, but raised himself again shakingly and charged towards Geralt, only to be met by Geralt's elbow in his neck followed rapidly by his fist in his nose that knocked the thug out for good this time.

Geralt turned and looked down at the dwarf who only reached up to his waist. He was a sturdy and well seasoned man with a bushy red beard and short red hair cut to an inch of his scalp except for cockscomb along the middle, and he had a distinctive ugly old scar on his nose. The dwarf stared back at him for a moment, before he spoke in a hoarse and amazed voice.

"Geralt, is that you? Well, I'll be damned!" the dwarf laughed and stretched his hand out for a shake.

"Who are you?"

"You're drunk! I'm your pal, Zoltan Chivay! Where have you been? Why haven't I heard from you?"

The dwarf turned to look at Ain who rode her horse up to them leading Geralt's behind her and asked, "Are you alright? Did you get hurt?"

She looked apprehensively at the men that were gathering themselves from the ground and hurrying to get away without drawing further attention on themselves.

Geralt turned towards her as well, and grabbed the reins of his horse. "We're fine. This is Zoltan Chivay."

"Greetings, master Chivay," she spoke, and dismounted her horse. "My name's Ain."

"Greetings, my lady, and please, only Zoltan," he answered with a friendly look before he turned to Geralt. "Geralt, what about Yennefer?"

"Not sure I can explain much."

"Ahhh, you don't need to tell Zoltan Chivay anything. Least to say I'm glad to see you. And thanks for getting those hounds of my back."

"You misunderstood. I lost my memory. I only remember the last few months."

"You know what, Geralt? Let's have a beer and talk like we used to. Clear your mind and maybe some things will come back to you."

They followed Zoltan to one of the huts that hosted a tavern. The small, dusky room was furnished with crude furniture placed directly on a hard earthen floor. It stank of fish, old tobacco and sweat. Light was coming only from a couple of small dirty windows and through gaps between the wooden boards that made up the wall. Geralt saw the silent discontent on the face of the tavern keeper with greasy hair and bad yellow teeth when he placed three mugs of ale on the table.

"So, Zoltan," Geralt spoke after the keeper walked away. "Something wrong? You don't look well."

"True to a witcher," Zoltan laughed. "Dead, came back to life, nobody's seen him for five years and he wants to know if something's wrong."

"I'd rather talk about you," Geralt replied. "You look like something is bothering you."

"Yes, a nasty matter. A friend was to meet me in this village some time ago. But he never appeared."

"Thinking he might be in trouble?"

"I hope not, but I wouldn't be surprised if he were. He joined the Squirrels recently, and agreed to trade with the hawkers."

"Squirrels and hawkers?"

"The squirrels or Scoia'tael as they call themselves are non-humans that hope to gain equality by shooting folk from behind trees. And hawkers are merchants who sell arms to the Scoia'tael. Illegally."

"I see."

"Why do they have to fight?" Ain asked as if she couldn't comprehend the idea.

Zoltan didn't get offended by her naive question. "Lady Ain, as you just saw, we nonhumans are not exactly welcomed here. We get blamed for everything, from the plague to the beasts and the warts on the Reverend's arse. Scoia'tael took up arms to fight for freedom and other ideals. They're nonhuman little shits who are fed romantic tales, and fighting a losing battle."

"And you, Zoltan?", Geralt asked.

"My only business here is looking for my friend, Geralt. There are some matters we need to resolve. I've actually bigger concerns than the occasional act of bigotry and hate. It's called the Breckenriggs, my future in-laws. Don't laugh your arse off, but I'm to wed soon, Geralt."

"Congratulations, Zoltan, that sounds wonderful," Ain commented warmly.

"Yeah, not as wonderful as one might think. The Breckenriggs are pressuring me. My father-in-law to be puts too much stock in material things. The Common Cause Mine where I worked after the war was a complete failure. I blame it on the bloody times," he spat bitterly and he took a gulp of his drink. "I hope to start a modest business in Vizima, bringing in goods from Mahakam, where my in-laws live."

"From Mahakam? Any profit in that?"

"I certainly hope so. I made some investments during the war. As they say, the money needs to move."

"Just so long it doesn't run away..." Geralt answered. "Tell me, Zoltan, is there work for a witcher in Vizima?"

"I'm sure there is, Geralt. Vizima's where the real action is. Dandelion's gonna piss his pants to see you, then write several ballads about the return of the White Wolf." Zoltan laughed.

"Dandelion?"

"Heh heh. The face he'll make when he'll discover you can't remember him. Dandelion is a bard and a close friend of yours. After what we went through during the war, the prick grew on me as well. But don't tell him that."

The door suddenly opened with a loud thunk, and a group of men stepped purposefully inside. The same four thugs they'd fought earlier, and two new ones, all armed with swords and axes. Their eyes fell immediately towards the table Geralt, Ain, and Zoltan were occupying, and the same thin man with tired face and tattooed arm spoke. "Thought you could get away with barging in our village and stealing away our women, did you? We'll show you nonhuman dogs not to mess with us."

"Are you stupid?" Ain called, while they all stood up. "Didn't you get enough of a beating already?"

"Don't you worry, sweetheart, we'll show you _enough_ after we're through with your boyfriend," the man leered lewdly.

"Geralt, don't kill them," he heard Ain's voice calling when he drew sword, and by the time she finished her sentence two of the men were already screaming. One flick of his hand and two swipes of his sword later, and other two were writhing on the dusty ground. The last two closest to the door dropped their weapons and ran stumbling. The tavern keeper looked in mute horror, and so did Ain. He grabbed their possessions, and urged her and Zoltan outside.

When they reached the horses, Geralt strapped the saddle bags back on.

"Geralt, you kept your skill sharp wherever you've been. I've rarely seen you so put off."

"Will you return to Vizima now?" Geralt answered in return.

"Not yet. I'll keep looking for my friend. It would be nice to resolve some matters first."

"We need to get going before nightfall. We'll talk later in Vizima. Don't get killed."

"Don't get killed yourself, you deveth."

o0o

After parting ways with Zoltan, they continued down the river. Finding accommodation in the small settlement was out of the question after what had passed. Ain remained unusually silent and he wondered how much the act of violence she had witnessed had disturbed her. He replayed the chain of events in his mind. He thought of Zoltan's comment, and of the fact that he himself didn't remember reacting so relentlessly before. The thug's comment had set him off. The thought of someone laying hands on her made his blood boil. His reaction surprised him as well, but he never intended to kill them.

They rode slowly until the early sunset, when they made camp on a section of the riverbank covered by thick green grass. After they got a fire going, Ain turned to look at the river, and announced, "I am going to take a bath." She didn't wait for an answer, but turned and retrieved some things from her bag, then walked the few steps it took to reach the water.

Geralt turned his back reluctantly when she began discarding her clothes, but only after she gave him an expectant look. He heard her step into the water and intake sharp breaths with every step she took. He heard the sounds of rippling water when she submerged her body, and then soft splashy noises. He soon heard additional soft ripplings of water and reached under his shirt to grab his medallion that was suddenly sending warning vibrations.

He turned towards the noise at the same time Ain spoke.

"Geralt, I think there's something in the water."

"Ain, get out," he ran towards her as she hurried towards him. He grabbed her arm and pulled her hurriedly along and then behind him as he turned again towards where he saw several huge heads, with round bulging white eyes, protruding from under the surface. Ain gave a small cry when she saw the skinny and humped humanoid-like creatures with slightly protruding bellies and green slimy skin, and Geralt drew his silver sword.

"Stay behind me," he told her, then he stepped towards them. They were dumb creatures, hardly posing any counterattack, so Geralt cut them easily down and pushed them back into the water.

He walked towards Ain who stood naked and frozen, her hands wrapped around her chest, her skin covered in goosebumps, and her hair soaked with soap. On his way he retrieved the towel she had placed by the shore, and he placed it around her shoulders.

"What were those things?", she asked through clenched teeth while staring blankly at him.

"Drowners," the answer just came to him. "Don't worry, they're dead now."

"Thank you, Geralt, for saving me. _Again_." She covered her face and her body shook slightly with her sobs. "I'm sorry I've been so stupid. I've had the wrong idea about this journey. I'm so sorry. Tell me what to do," she looked up at him and dried her tears with the back of her hands. "Do you want me to go away?"

He had no idea as to what she was talking about, her ideas all jumbled by her emotional outburst. But he didn't want her to go away. "No," he answered simply.

"Thank you," she gave him a small smile, then stretched the towel around her, suddenly aware that she was naked. "Is there any chance that I can rinse my hair without putting our lives in danger again?"

He smiled and led her to the water. After she was finished and sat wrapped into a blanket by the fire, he went to change his wet clothes and take a bath himself. The freezing water was a welcome remedy to quench the effects Ain had on his body, but it did nothing to chase the images of her naked body out of his head.

When he returned Ain handed him a clean cloth in which she had wrapped a good portion of food.

"What are drowners, Geralt, do you know?" she asked him while he ate. "They look very much like people."

"They were, once," Geralt answered, with a sudden feeling of wonder that he could recall knowledge he thought he had lost. "The bodies of hanged criminals get thrown in the water, and they sometimes return as drowners, tormented by the weight of their crimes."

Ain remained sitting with her hands wrapped around her knees, and staring into the fire which she kept feeding with thin branches.

"You look exhausted. You should get some sleep."

I can't. I'm afraid to fall asleep. What if there are more drowners outthere? Or who knows what else."

"Don't be afraid. I'll know if something gets close. I won't let anything get to you."

"Thank you. But I still can't sleep."

"Come over here then. I'll watch over you."

She gave him an unsure look. "Do you mean that?"

"I mean it."

She gathered her blanket and her bedroll and moved them next to his. She laid down on her back, covering herself up to her neck, and he laid down besides her. He inhaled her distinctive floral smell that was now much stronger due to her damp hair and the close proximity. It made him think of a blossomed cherry tree under the sun. After a while he heard her breathing became calm and constant, her chest rising and falling at regular intervals, a sign that she was sleeping. He fell asleep soon after.

Movement woke him briefly when Ain shifted her body. She had turned on her side facing him, winding her body almost into a ball, and resting her forehead on his upper arm. He changed his position as well, and after a moment of hesitation he put his arms around her and fell asleep again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN** _Geralt's flash-back is inspired by a book from the game called "The Curse of Baron Wolfstein and Other Love Stories" by Danielle Stone, a joking reference to the romance novels of Danielle Steel. I found the story funny, so I built on that. The book goes like this: "Baron Wolfstein buried his face in his hands. His heart was throbbing. Suddenly the scent of his wife's blood and the blood of his children intensified. The baron's body swelled as his muscles grew, his noble attire fell in tatters on the marble floor. 'My beloved, you... you are so hairy. You are a werewolf!' Bianca went pale. 'What about our love?' In reply she heard a terrifying roar."_

_The part about witchers that Ain reads out loud is a direct quote from the book "The Last Wish" by Andrzej Sapkowski, page 180. I found that so hilarious, that I had to toy with it._


	8. Chapter 8 Nature revealed

**A/N:** _It's been awhile since the last update, sorry about that. I found other pleasurable endeavours to occupy my time with: Diablo 3 and some saucy novels with vampires - better don't ask. :-) (I'm afraid they didn't leave me unscathed, and that might reflect in my writing.) Any-ways, this story still haunts me, ideas are still rummaging in my brain, I just didn't have time to put them down. _

_I'm lucky to have the invaluable support of my wonderful beta-reader **Pesto Monkey** - the story wouldn't be what it is without her help. Any constructive criticism and comments will be greatly appreciated. Now here it is, a new chapter of my experiment. Hope you'll enjoy!_

* * *

><p>As usual, Geralt's superior senses didn't fail to register the slightest change in the environment. The subtlest signs hinting the crack of dawn were enough to wake him. Without stirring, he half-opened his eyes and took in his surroundings: greyish light beginning to chase away the shadows, chirps of small birds awakening filling the air, Ain's quiet breathing brushing against his chest and warming the air between them, his arm wrapped comfortably around her waist, her delightful scent, the aching pulse in his groin urging him to pull her warm body closer...<p>

With swift, nimble moves he threw aside the covers and rose. Ain sighed softly and cradled her arms closer to her chest as if to compensate for the emptiness he'd left, and she went on sleeping. Geralt took a few steps away before he stopped and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and subdued his body, controlling the exhale of air, relaxing his muscles, lowering the rhythm of his heartbeat. He stood straight and tall for several long seconds before he opened his eyes and began moving his muscular body with measured movements, slowly at first and then with increasing quickness.

Rolling forward he drew out his sword from where it lay on the ground by the sleeping roll, and continued his relentless physical exercise. In silence, extremely fast and with a deadly grace, he flowed through the moves as though through a well-rehearsed dance. Sharp memories of beasts and men fought long ago played in front of his eyes as he crouched and stood, lunged and dodged, and swung and thrust his sword at the insubstantial images. Ghouls, graviers, vampires, wyverns, striga, werewolf, kikimora, manticore, leshy, folger, giant scorpion, black annis; so many had fallen under his sword. He was a_ killer_, that's who he was. In his hand, his sword felt like an extension of his body, an integral part of him. When they moved as one it was an unforgiving dance of death.

Was there any remorse?

He stilled his movements and brought himself back to the present. The sun was already up in the sky, and Ain was still sleeping undisturbed. Intent on waking her, he approached and kneeled by her side. He placed his sword back in its scabbard without moving his eyes from her face. He couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to have her waking up in his arms. A jolt of lust went through him and the stirring in his loins returned with a vengeance. Who was he kidding? Giving his body another occupation had been only a momentary distraction. There was only one thing that would quench his thirst, and it was time to test the waters.

He frowned to find his hand reaching out to stroke her tangled hair, and jerked it back and landed it firmly on her shoulder. Dreamy grayish blue eyes met his through blinking eyelids and a warm smile played across her face.

"Hi, Geralt."

He drew his hand back and she rolled on her back and stretched her arms above her head. A groan rose in his throat when she arched her back, which he managed to disguise so it came out as an awkward cough at the last moment. He could make out the small round shapes of her breasts through the blanket. Was she doing this on purpose? She didn't seem aware of the effect she had on him.

"Lovely morning. Do we have to go already? I could use a moment longer," she told him while she lifted herself up to lean on her elbows, distracting him further with the way her shirt stretched itself across her breasts.

"Sleep well?" he asked in a voice that sounded even more guttural than his usual deep timbre.

"Yes, very well. Geralt, I want to thank you again for last night. For everything, actually." She stood with fluid, graceful movements, forcing him to rise as well.

"Enjoying your journey?"

"It's unnerving... but yes. I experienced more in the last week than I had in my entire life. I could not have done this without you."

"No doubt you could. With what you payed me, you could've hired an armed escort."

"I didn't want an escort. I wanted you. To be my guide," she hurried to add when she met his eyes.

"Why?" He closed the space between them until only inches separated them, forcing her to tilt her head back to look at him. He locked his eyes with hers, and noticed her lips parting and her breath ceasing. "Why do you want me?"

"I..." She took a careful step back, and then another.

He was satisfied to learn that closeness didn't leave her unaffected. The question was whether closeness had the desired effect on her.

"Are you afraid?" he smirked, but let her have her space.

"No. Not afraid." She averted her eyes, and began packing her belongings.

"What then?"

"I don't know. Nothing."

His lips curled into a wicked smile. "Are you sure?"

"Are we going to Vizima?" she asked while she turned away and busied herself with stuffing a bag. "I hope Zoltan will be safe. I'd like to pay him a visit in Vi-"

"You'll have to try another tactic if you want to distract me. You didn't answer my question."

"I already told you," she said, sounding irate but still avoiding his gaze. "I chose you because I heard of you. And it was the right choice, as it turned out. I owe you my life, and I am grateful to you. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"You owe me the truth, at least, and I know there's more to it than that."

She flinched. "How do you know?"

"I won't teach you your cues, but know that you're not as wily as you may think. Now tell me, what is it?"

"You're right, I do owe you the truth, and there is also a more personal reason for why I found you, but I do not wish to share with you. At least not yet."

"What's holding you back?"

"It would mean nothing to you and I'm afraid of how you may take it, and what you'll think of me. Please, let's have this conversation at a later time. I will talk no longer of this now."

Sheer frustration welled in him at her ridiculously secretive tendency. True to her word, she stubbornly refused answering any more of his questions. He was tempted to use mind control on her to get answers, but to his vexation he found her resistance tantalizing. If possible he found her even more attractive when she held her ground with him. It would be more satisfying to break her resolve. Not by force, that wasn't him, he realised. He found this revelation about himself interesting. Moments earlier he had been afraid he was a heartless killer, yet he could never imagine hurting her in any way. He was going to bend her, not break her. He was itching to know what her "personal reason" was, and he would demand answers from her at every opportunity.

Later on the road she asked him about her cues, but she refused to make _an answer for an answer_ kind of deal, so they continued to ride in silence. When the highway turned taking them near the edge of a forest Ain spoke up.

"I need a bit of private time. Can we stop?"

They reined in their horses, and Ain dismounted and headed into the forest.

"Don't go too far," he called after her. He followed her with his eyes until she disappeared into the thick vegetation.

Only few moments later he heard a choked, broken cry, barely audible even to his enhanced hearing. He cursed and leaped off the horse. Was she a magnet for trouble? Like an arrow, he sprinted in her footsteps until he spied her ahead stumbling blindly towards him. While he advanced he scrutinized the surrounding, searching for what had caused the horrified look on her pale face.

"Geralt," she called weakly and went directly into his arms.

"What's wrong?"

"Dead people... Sick... I think I'm going to be sick," she managed to say before she broke away and bent over with her hands on her knees and started retching.

He placed a hand on her shoulder to lift her up when she didn't throw up.

"Get back to the horses."

"I'd rather come with you," she pleaded, her face distorted with nausea.

"You wish to see the contents of your stomach? Do as I say, it's safer. Go now, I'll be there shortly."

He watched her make her way back, then walked in the opposite direction until he found the corpses of two men lying on the forest floor a short distance from each other. The closest to him lay face down, the other one face up, bulging eyes staring blankly, fear frozen on the man's swollen face. Looking closely at the lacerations, Geralt determined that they had been caused by the jaws and poisonous bites of some sort of arachnids. Currently the corpses exuded only smells of old sweat and unwashed bodies. They had been dead for less than a day, Geralt guessed, also taking into account that the process of decay had been somewhat slowed down by the cool, shadowy forest ground.

A faint clicking sound reached his ears from the canopy of trees ahead of him, drawing his attention. Geralt drew his silver sword and stepped carefully and soundlessly towards it. He stilled and watched a two-foot long six-legged insect-like creature move unsuspectingly down the trunk of a tree. The creature reached the ground and moved around slowly and searchingly among the ferns and shrubs until it got pinned by the witcher's sword. Even after Geralt twisted his sword in its insides, cracking its hard chitinous shell with a sickening sound, the creature kept twitching its legs wildly, struggling to get away. Holding it in place with his boot, Geralt pulled his sword out and severed its head.

When he returned, Ain was standing by the side of the road looking uneasily towards the forest. Her demeanor relaxed somewhat when she caught sight of him and as soon as he was out of the forest she assaulted him with questions.

"What did you learn? What happened to those poor men? What's that thing in your hand?"

"How are you feeling?" he asked in turn.

"What? Oh, better now," she answered without taking her eyes from his hand.

"It's an endrega's head. The same kind of creature that killed those men."

"Let me take a look. But not so close, please, keep it away. What kind of animal is this?"

"It's a type of arachnid resembling a spider, but lives in colonies, like insects. Those men made the mistake of wandering into their territory."

"But this bug has... _teeth,_ and the head is huge. How big are they?"

"Endregas are non vertebrate animals, but they are not insects. They are two to three feet long, depending on the type. The workers are smaller than the guards, and the queens are much bigger."

"Why did you take the head?"

"The saliva and venom can be used to make potions, the jaws to make weapons. More questions, or can we get on the way now?"

"Wait, Geralt. What about those men?"

"We'll find out who they are soon enough," he answered while he mounted his horse.

"How?"

"They're locals," he said without elaborating, and she seemed to trust his judgment by the way she nodded.

"I still need to go," she said embarrassed.

One corner of his mouth pulled into a wicked smile. "Do you want me come with you?"

"On second thought, I think I'll hold, thanks," she said and reached for her horse.

o0o

A less traveled road splitting from the highway further ahead led them into the forest until they reached a broad area cleared of vegetation and battered like a giant hideous wound.

Geralt kept their pace deliberately slow to give the men they approached time to acquaint themselves with his presence and to signal them that he presented no threat, while he could also measure them in return. Even so, the man who noticed them first stopped loading timber and reached for the handle of an ax leaning against the cart.

"Greetings," Geralt spoke to them from a short distance. "You won't need that, I mean you no harm."

"Yeah? We'll see," the scrawny man holding the ax replied, leaning into the handle while eyeing the sword handles visible over Geralt's shoulder. "Who are you?"

"Geralt. A witcher."

"A witcher, huh? Heard of your kind. Aren't you some kind of monster slayer?"

"Some kind? And you are?"

"I'm Rat."

Geralt thought the nickname must be due to the man's appearance. He had dark watery eyes and the lobes of his ears were pointing out in an unfortunate way.

"Do you speak for the lumberjacks?"

"Neah. Loschen runs things here," Rat answered.

From the way one of the gathering men stepped purposefully towards him, Geralt inferred that he must be Loschen, because hearing his name had made him speed up his pace. The witcher turned and looked at him, and so did the others as if they were waiting for him to take care of the situation.

"I'm Loschen, stranger," the grey-haired man spoke. "I speak for the lumberjacks. What's your business here?"

"I came across two dead men in the forest, killed by endregas. I'm guessing they worked here."

"By Melitele's tits," Rat cursed, and the others vociferated all at the same time as well.

"What the fuck, Loschen?" a man with unkempt beard and a doughy exposed belly shouted over the others. "If the beasts got Watchdog and Tiny what chance have we? We go no more into the fucking forest, hear me?"

"Cursed be," Loschen answered, drying his forehead with the sleeve of his dirty shirt. "Cease your bickering, fools. We don't yet know what happened, or who bit the dust."

To Geralt he said, "The forest's crawling with beasts. Endregas' been dropping on our arses of late and I sent a party to get rid of the vermin."

"Enregas are vicious creatures if their territory is threatened. Your men had been running, but not fast enough. They almost made it out of the forest. You'll find the bodies a couple of miles down the highway."

"There's more than two men out there. Think they're still alive? You carry weapons, stranger, and you look plenty able."

"He's a witcher," Rat interjected.

A flash of surprise crossed Loschen's features, and his voice was full of reverence when he spoke again.

"Melitele herself must've sent you. I pray you can save our skin, master witcher, 'cuz we're in hot water, you can well hear."

Without moving Geralt surveyed the men and the expanse behind them with a deceptively impassive look. "I can't help you," he finally said, and turned back towards Ain who had been standing near the horses and had been quietly listening to their conversation.

"Geralt," she called, but her voice got drowned out by Loschen's interjection.

"Master witcher, please, if I can have a word in private."

When Geralt nodded, he yelled at the men "Get chopping, you lazy grunts, I'm not paying you to stand around gapping."

While the men began to unwillingly drag their feet away, Loschen gestured the witcher to follow him a few steps away at a distance out of everybody's hearing.

"Master witcher, you don't strike me as a man who gets scared easily. Is there something I should know about the beasts? That what makes you turn back?"

"I have my own reasons, Loschen, which are none of your concern. But know that the beasts are fighting for survival, for their homes which you are destroying when you cut down the forest. Don't take that lightly."

"So do we, witcher. We break our backs to make a living here. Like it or not, someone has to do this. We've been blessed to have been commissioned by the royal court. We've been supplying Vizima for years, ever since Foltest raised the new castle. The trade has been slow of late, so we're all trying to get by. Now if it's money you're worried about, I'm sure we can come to some agreement."

"You're mistaken, Loschen. I'm not playing hard to get to press for a higher wage. I know what my work's worth, and you would pay me what I ask if my sword was for hire."

With that Geralt stepped back towards Ain who was chatting with Rat. The witcher's furrowed brows must have tipped Loschen off, because he hurried to say, "I see. You're worried about the lass, true?"

"You're a smart man. This job would take time, and I can't leave her unguarded in a camp full of boors. No offense."

Loschen straightened his back and his chin jutted up just a touch. "It's true, my men are not well-bred, and they don't often see the tail of a woman around here. But I can handle them, I promise you that. Master witcher, you have my word, no one's going to touch the lass. You don't know me yet, but I'm a man of my word."

"You have my answer, Loschen," he said, and walked without giving his interlocutor another chance to speak.

"We're leaving," he said for both Ain's and the two men's sakes.

"Geralt, I'd like to talk to you first. Will you gentlemen please excuse us?"

The two men looked dumbfounded at her for a moment before turning to Geralt. At his inscrutable look Loschen blubbered "Of course" and left followed by Rat.

Geralt watched Ain closely while she watched the men walking away. "What did Rat say to you?" he asked.

"He wished to know if there was something he could help me with. Why did you turn down the job they were offering you? Is there nothing you can do to help them?"

"Stay out of this, Ain."

"Not until you tell me why you refuse to help them."

"As soon as you answer my questions."

"Geralt, please, let this go. What does it matter? I don't think it does. But this here matters, because people's lives are at stake. So please, help them if you can. Why won't you?"

"Because I'd have to leave you here with them. A lamb among wolves. Understand? And you must know I won't let go until I get answers."

"You refuse to take this job because of me? As grateful as I am for your concern, I can't let you do that. Remember when I asked you to be my in guide and you refused me because you didn't want to give up your witcher work? In the short time I've been with you I came to understand how right you were. You help people, you save lives. And I promised I wouldn't stand in the way of your work. These people need your help more than I do right now, and if anything should happen to me, I won't hold you accountable."

He remembered the evening when they first met, when she came into his room, an unusual visitor with an unusual request. His refusal was meant to provoke her. He had been sarcastic about the _being busy saving people_ part. But the truth was, he was busy trying to figure out what his life was about. When she came along, she appealed to him on many levels. Some of them he didn't fully understand yet. One thing he knew was that he felt protective of her now. He took the contract in Dorian without a second thought because he knew she would be safe. Yet now he was reluctant. No matter who she was or why she sought him out, her safety mattered more to him than a contract. He told himself it was because that's what he had been paid to do. He had made a commitment the moment he accepted to take the pouch of gems Dorian.

"Please," she added when he didn't answer.

Another thing he knew was that he had a hard time saying no when she pleaded with him like that. Her eyes were locked with his and he felt drawn into the intense storm of her gaze. She didn't falter as she otherwise might when he caught her looking at him or when they discussed other subjects.

"Only if you promise me you'll do exactly as I say," he finally said.

"I promise," she smiled. Not smugly, as he might have expected in such a situation. She regarded him adoringly. That look of hers got him twisted up inside.

The witcher found Loschen and the other loggers arguing by the horse powered saw. When he got their attention he spoke unceremoniously. "I'll rid you of your problem with the endregas for three hundred orens and lodging in that cottage over there. And you'll do well not to come within ten yards of it while the lady and I stay there. For your own good."

Loschen agreed with some relief and spurred the loggers back to work once again.

The hewn-log cottage was small and simple, but sturdy, suitable for the intended purpose. Inside there was one single room. A bed, a table, and two chairs made it look crowded. The stagnant air inside was pungent with odors of onion and smelly feet which made Ain wrinkle her nose and go directly to open the small window.

"You need to stay inside until I get back," he told her after he settled their bags on the floor and checked the locking bar on the door. "Here, take this," he unsheathed the knife strapped to his right thigh and handed it to her, hilt forward. "And don't be afraid to use it."

"What for?" she asked, as she looked at it. "Where are you going? I could come with you, maybe there's something I can do to help."

"Remember what you promised. Keep the knife with you."

She sighed and took the knife. "It may be redundant, but please, be careful."

"I'll be back before nightfall," he gave her a reassuring look. "Lock the door behind me, and don't let anyone in."

After he made sure that Ain locked the door, he magically sealed the entrances. The yrden traps he placed in front of the door and window would only stop the first intruders if need be, but he hoped it would be enough to discourage others to follow.

o0o

Geralt made his way through the lush vegetation followed by six lumberjacks. He figured the more that came with him, the less in the camp near Ain. He couldn't shake his worry about her safety and wished to get the job over with quickly. His peace of mind was rattled further when he heard "Witcher, she yours the little woman? 'Cuz I think she's sweet for me. Been thinking..."

Rat's words froze on his lips when Geralt turned to face him with a murderous look.

"Open your mouth again, Rat, and I'll be feeding you that little tail you're thinking with. Now listen carefully. If anything should happen to her I'll hold you personally responsible. You may want to think how precious your life is to you before you carry out any thought. Got that?"

None dared to move or say anything.

"Nod if you understood," Geralt growled, looming menacingly over the man.

Someone exhaled audibly when Rat backed down and grudgingly nodded. The tension in the air was tangibly reduced but not entirely dissipated.

Geralt circled the fringes of the endregas' territory, mapping it and and killing the creatures they encountered. For every one creature they saw, at least two more were lurking somewhere nearby, dropping in without warning from the trees above, making the jumpy lumberjacks yell out. The witcher didn't advance too close towards the nest. Eventually they came about more mangled bodies of the men sent earlier to destroy the creatures. Geralt instructed the lumberjacks following him to carry them back to the camp, while he lingered not far behind gathering herbs and mushrooms.

When he finally returned to the camp the lumberjacks were sprawled on the ground around a fire, and nursing their mood with alcohol.

"Witcher, come have a drink with us," Loschen called when he noticed him.

"Not tonight, Loschen," he said without stopping.

"I'd pass up a drink, too, if I had me a little bird locked in, to make her sing all night," he heard one of the men snicker when he had put some distance between them.

"Shut your mouth, dumbass," Lochen barked. "None of your business. The witcher's a good man."

"Wanna hear what she asked me?" Geralt recognized Rat's voice. "If we're going to plant the trees back," he continued, and the others cracked in a chorus of laughs.

"Maybe she's screwy. That'd say why she's trotting with a bloody witcher," another voice boomed.

Ignoring their heedless gossip, Geralt called Ain to get her to open the door. He was relieved he found his traps in place, and he stepped carefully over and into the dark shrouded room.

The bed was turned up and against the wall near the door and the table and chairs had been moved besides it, making room for an improvised pallet under the window.

"What's wrong with the bed?"

"It stinks. I think the covers haven't been washed in a long time."

"Probably never," he grinned as he dropped his leather pouch filled with plants on the table and checked out the lamp.

"I couldn't find flint to light it up," she commented.

Flames shot from his hand and ignited the wick.

"What's this?" Ain asked, looking at the bag when he placed the lamp on the table.

"Herbs for potions."

He had lost all his potions and ingredients in the fire in Dorian, so he had to start from scratch and make new ones. Luckily he'd memorized the recipes, because the scrolls were lost as well. He hoped the older witcher kept copies.

He improvised a mortar out of a wooden bowl and the hilt of a knife. He threw leaves of wolfsbane, celandine, and bryonia into the bowl and ground them until they became a paste, which he then poured into a bottle half-filled with Temerian Rye bought in Dorian. Ain wrinkled her nose at the strong smells, but stood close and watched fascinated by the delicate traces of the herbal extract as it steeped into the clear liquid, swirling in convoluted patterns before dissipating into the mix of the solution. Being near her was as distracting as a terrible itch craving to be scratched, but her fair manner, her candid smile, her unaffected and unknowing gaze inhibited his impulse to reach over. Struggling to ignore his body's urges, Geralt repeated the process with a new mix of plants while Ain prepared a meal. She kept interrogating him about plants and potions, endregas, and the work conditions of the lumberjacks.

"If people would share all their goods, then no one would be forced to work in such conditions," she argued after he told her that the lumberjacks' occupation was not a choice. "Many people's living would improve considerably."

"While others' would worsen. The idea of common goods is naïve, Ain. No man will willingly depart with privileges, nor give up power. You'd like the king to chop wood?" Geralt asked amused.

"He should be the first, since he's the leader of the people."

"What you call for requires unselfish concern for to the welfare of others, but pure selflessness is not typical of human nature. Some will always want to have more or rule over others."

"Maybe people can be taught better."

"Maybe," he allowed, and concluded the argument.

Once done with preparing potions and eating, Geralt rolled out his bedroll in the only available space on the floor next to Ain's makeshift bed. Forced by the circumstances to sleep in close proximity to her again, he knew he would be unrelentingly aroused through the night. Yet he was eager to enjoy her sweet scent again.

They settled down in silence. Ignoring the sounds coming from the half-opened window Geralt focused on listening to her breathing until he eventually lost himself in the soothing rhythm.

In her sleep she tossed and turned until she settled at his side just as she had the previous night. And this time he didn't hesitate to wrap an arm around her and pull her closer.

A gentle touch woke him up. Ain was trying to gingerly extract herself from under his arm. A comely blush blossomed on her cheeks when she met his gaze.

"Geralt, I... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..." she spluttered.

"It's okay, I don't mind."

Soft pink lips rounded into an "Oh.." and the storm in her eyes softened. "That's good," she whispered, to which he raised a brow. He reached up and tugged the soft strands of hair falling around her heart-shaped face behind her ear, and traced her delicate jaw with his fingers. As if wrapped in a spell her eyes remained locked with his, and she leaned into his touch. She caught herself just as she had reduced the distance between their faces to mere inches, and she shot up.

Rolling on his back with a deep breath, he registered that the sun was already up. For the first time since he could remember he had overslept.

o0o

As he made his way through the shadowy green forest, Geralt decided he would go directly for the heart of the nest. Under different circumstances he would have adopted a different tactic, drawing the creatures out one by one until he thinned the bulk of the nest. But that would take longer, and he did not wish to remain in the lumberjack camp for another day. He felt uneasy having to leave Ain alone and locked in. Having her along was unsuitable with a witcher's path. At least as it had been painted to him by the other witchers' tales at Kaer Morhen, and reflecting on the kind of life he led in the three months before he met her. What he had chosen to ignore so far was made painfully obvious to him now. She was in his care and his heart sped up at the thought that something might happen to her. If the witcher's path was to kill monsters for money, then he would choose another path. He wouldn't take even the slightest risk with her safety from now on, he decided.

He downed a small vial of Golden Oriole he had prepared in the eve and with a flash of his silver sword he dispatched an endrega worker that crossed his path. Advancing became more difficult as the number of creatures increased with every step he took. He used magical traps to slow them down and flames to push them back, always making sure he didn't get surrounded, and carefully avoiding their poisonous spit.

The creatures guarding the nurseries were larger, reaching almost up to his waist, and they were a lot more aggressive than ordinary endregas. Sweat ran down his back and dripped from his brow as he panted in effort. With no time or place to rest, the power and frequency of his spells were severely decreased. In the short moments when he wasn't assaulted by endrega warriors Geralt cut down through the giant pods rooted on tree trunks holding viscous greenish translucent eggs the size of a human head.

When he finally reached the queen, the witcher took several careful steps back, noting her every move with apprehension. The endrega queen was enormous. Her powerful legs and giant swollen body the height of two and a half men was covered in hard chitin. She shrieked and charged, and Geralt rolled and ran out of her way. Facing her in a frontal attack would be suicide, Geralt realised. He had to get to her from the side or the back, and find her soft spots. But she was quick despite her impressive size, and she sprayed poison furiously, forcing the witcher to keep his distance. Even after he trapped her a few times using the Yrden sign, and a few well placed blows connected, she was not weakened. Snarling and panting, his muscles aching, the witcher never turned his back on her. But now he found himself cornered against too closely grown tree trunks and thick bushes, and flanked by two endrega guards that dropped out of nowhere. He was in trouble. Just as the thought crossed his mind, a sharp cry resounded in the air, and a stone bounced off the queen's hard round back.

Adrenaline spiked in the witcher's blood. The disturbance got the queen's attention, and she turned around towards the source.

"Run, Ain! Run!" the witcher yelled.

Ain started running and the queen charged after her. Geralt knew she wouldn't make it, even less now as Ain stumbled on a root and fell. The witcher's heart stopped beating. Flames shot from his hands. He couldn't reach the creature in time. She was going to be ripped to pieces right in front of his eyes.

Ain looked up at the rapidly approaching queen, her eyes wide in terror. She covered her face with her arm while stretching the other hand as if trying to stop the attack. The witcher got momentarily blinded by bright white light. When he could finally make out the contours of his surroundings again, he saw the queen far away struggling to get back on its feet. Without delay he reached her and severed her head. Not sparing another moment, he headed to where Ain was huddled on the ground and grabbed her by the arms, lifting her up. He shook her to make her look at him.

"What are you doing here?"

Tears filled her eyes. "I was trying to help."

"Did I ask for your help?" He gave her shoulders another jostle. "You could have died!" he roared, shaking her hard. "What was it you did? Tell me!"

Sobbing, with tears streaming down her cheeks, she raised her hands to shove against his chest. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms down and behind her back. She kept struggling against him so he tightened his iron grip, holding her firmly. She opened her mouth to protest, but he gripped the nape of her neck craning it up. He crushed his lips to hers, cutting off her words.

She whimpered weakly under his fierce kiss, and her struggle lessened. He parted her lips and slipped his tongue past them. Her sweetness mingled with salty tears made him groan against her. Adrenaline still surging through his veins was clouding his judgement. When her body went soft and pliant, he rubbed his hips against her, groaning at the contact.

He stopped abruptly, his brows drawing together as he met her dazed gaze. His eyes fell to her glistening lips, still parted and swollen from the rough kiss. He brushed her hair back, drying her cheeks with his gloved thumbs.

"How could you be so reckless and put yourself in danger like that?" he asked in a rough voice, still searing with emotion and arousal.

"I was afraid something might happen to you. I wished to help you."

"And you risked your life to do so. Why did you do it, Ain?"

"Geralt, please, I don't underst-"

"No more stalling. You will tell me everything now," he said, and lowered his head unable to stop himself from tasting her again.

"Why, Ain. Why me, tell me," he asked against her lips between kisses.

"Because I... Because you knew my mother," she answered breathlessly.

Ice coursed through his veins when her words registered and he froze. Slowly he removed himself from her, holding her by her shoulders and he looked at her.

"See? This is why I didn't want to tell you. I knew this would happen."

"Who was your mother, Ain?"

"What does it matter?" she fought out of his grip. "You can't remember her anyway. She's dead, and I'm not her."

She turned and ran away. He was too astounded by the news to stop her.

His left leg was numb and refused to respond when he tried to walk. He had been bitten, he realised, poisoned. He cursed and hurried limping after her and ignoring the staggering pain that shot up through his thigh.

"Ain, wait, please."

She kept running.


End file.
